


No One Else I’d Rather Be Beside

by RobinWritesChirps



Category: Firebringer - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee, Enemies With Benefits, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Hate Sex, Negotiations, Semi-Public Sex, millenials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25132870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinWritesChirps/pseuds/RobinWritesChirps
Summary: Jemilla thought she had found the perfect heavenly spot in her friend’s newly opened coffee shop. She soon found out that sharing it with a certain Zazzalil made it a lot more like hell.Enemies with benefits to lovers coffee shop AU. See chapter notes for a censored non-explicit version if that’s more your speed.
Relationships: Jemilla/Zazzalil (Firebringer)
Comments: 67
Kudos: 50





	1. The Great Big Thorn

**Author's Note:**

> You’ll find the censored non-explicit version of this chapter on this page (https://www.notion.so/Chapter-1-The-Great-Big-Thorn-Safe-version-c3e5d56767764d89b3c333afe74b84f1). Please enjoy whichever you prefer and leave a comment :)

The Great Big Thorn was a little slice of heaven shoved between two much larger boring stores, so narrow the entrance you would miss it unless you knew where you were going. Jemilla always knew where she was going. As soon as Emberly had announced the opening date of her newly launching indie coffee shop in town, Jemilla had marked down the location to make it a new hangout as soon as its doors would open. She could not have imagined how lovely the end result and it took her some time before passing the order, so enthralled she was looking around the place.

Grunt had painted the old wooden walls himself, though Tiblyn had better taste and had covered the less delicate parts of the fresco with various old timey frames and photographs. Battered old leather armchairs in all colors of the rainbow, reclaimed wooden cases as stools and tables, the place was hipster to no end, but the scent of freshly roasted coffee was a gift from God above and finally, Jemilla beamed and grabbed the large jar of latte with an extra floof of whipped cream Emberly had prepared for her. All drinks had names more obscure than the next and she was afraid to offend by using the usual, so she had only asked for the head barista’s recommendation. This was more risk than necessary but friendship with Emberly came at a cost and that cost was often as not a risk of mild poisoning. Jemilla was fine with that. Anything to support a friend.

Thrifted mismatched tables were also scattered around the long and narrow room, but Jemilla noted at once that only the larger table at the back had a power outlet nearby. She had brought work and, if the coffee tasted as good as the promise of its smell, she would be staying here for the rest of the day. Possibly many other days, too. With a little wave of thanks at Emberly, she went and sat comfortably. Messenger bag neatly tucked behind her back, laptop out, tablet out for quick notes, wireless earbuds on, she was all set for a great day of work. Jemilla loved to work.

"Oh, thank fuck, there’s still a seat," a woman said before dropping her ass on the chair next to Jemilla’s at the same table.

Jemilla gave her a polite smile and a nod, which went unnoticed as the woman started unpacking a whole array of tech items not unlike Jemilla’s. A cheaper laptop, a more complicated tangle of cables and external devices, and the drink might as well have been half a gallon of pure black coffee, by the look of it. Jemilla took a sip of her sweeter treat and went back to her own screen.

“Excuse me,” the woman interrupted and tapped Jemilla’s shoulder with undue insistence for a first ever contact. “Excuse me, your cables are in the way.”

Jemilla tried not to frown. Her set-up had been tidy and practical and she had thought to sit here so comfortably the rest of the day with the hope of being undisturbed. She looked down at the power outlet between their chairs on the wall. Two slots, which she had taken both. The woman showed off a handful of cables in her fist, gesturing her to free half of the occupancy. Jemilla did as asked, though the courtesy was never thanked. Immediately, the other woman only started on her own work after loudly slurping a large gulp of coffee.

“You’re welcome,” Jemilla muttered, a little annoyed.

Her half of the table was now well past invaded as her new neighbor had made herself right at home, a small backpack initially bulky with being stuffed full and every device under the sun scattered around her. At least she was pretty, a fluffy blob of a tight ponytail and warm dark eyes, but a cute face didn’t make up much for loss of comfort. And all that on Emberly’s coffee shop’s opening day. But the coffee really was nice and the decor was so lovely...

“Mmh?” The woman said.

The reaction had come with a serious lag and it took another few seconds for her head to perk up as well. She sat there staring at Jemilla, who suddenly found herself also at a loss for a reply and it took her a couple of heartbeats to catch herself.

“I’m just saying, your shit’s in my way too,” she said with a little more mood than she was feeling.

She had not been upset, not really, at worst a little annoyed, but being ignored in such a blatant and likely inadvertent manner was hitting all the wrong buttons on her. There was little Jemilla disliked more than unnecessary rudeness. Always, she strived to make all her relationships sail smoothly and any obstacle on the other person’s part was a source of frustration. Getting along, she thought, was supposed to take much less effort than fighting, so why was there disharmony in the world? Down to the specific of this coffee shop table.

Her newly met invader glanced down at the spread of her possessions. With a swooping arm, she pushed them all to her side of the table in an unruly heap that nearly knocked over her magnum jar of coffee if she didn’t save it so preciously. She traced an invisible line right down the middle of the table with her finger, which ended in a fingergun she cocked at Jemilla with a snap.

"Whatever happened to simple human connection, huh?" She said and shoved her massive headphones over her ears.

Jemilla could hear the music right through them, so loud it went. She upped the volume of her own music, but there was only so loud a lo-fi beats video could be tolerated before it became a distraction to her work. Jemilla never liked to be distracted from her work. For a few years, she had been employed by the same website focusing on green minimalism of which she had recently become the lead editor and coordinator. A passion project between friends at first, ’More or Less’ had become a major hub and her main source of income. The one tradeoff had been that the larger part of her work now entailed more management and revising than any creative writing anymore, but Jemilla thrived better at organization anyways. Propping up her friends’ insightful ideas was the best and only way she could have hoped to make a living.

The best part of the job was that it could be done from anywhere. Often, she hung around the studio with the rest of the team but she could work from home and, her preference, from coffee shops. Owning less meant more money for the simple stuff of daily life, a nice sweet spice latte in a mason jar, maybe a cookie or two. Of course, she saved money, she gave some to charity, but Jemilla had a knack for the right way to treat herself in the simple joys of a mundane everyday otherwise.

Not that today was being mundane. The woman at her side was a whole circus of distraction on her own. Her name was Zazzalil, Jemilla learned after an exceedingly loud impromptu Whatsapp call from a friend Zazzalil took right there without even stepping a little further away for the sake of not distracting someone ostensibly working. Zazzalil was working too, it seemed, though the value of what she produced was evidently mediocre and less. She was editing video clips together in an order that made no sense to Jemilla from the brief glances she threw at the screen. The sound effects she could hear through the headphones were largely vulgar, farts or burps for the most part, and no two clips pertained to the same thing. She saw some videos that seemed to be Zazzalil herself mid dangerous parkour, some workout videos, meals shoved down her mouth, and in any case none of them of much interest to her. In the midst of it, Zazzalil chugged down coffee like it was water, rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand, sat idly browsing her phone. Much less work was done by her than by Jemilla by the end of the day.

Jemilla went home more exhausted than she had ever expected from a chill coffee shop work session. She had enjoyed the coffee, at least. You really could always trust Emberly to find the top shelf of anything, beans and milk and whatever else had gone into the several different excellent drinks Jemilla had sipped throughout the day. The decor had also been marvelous, to no small thanks to Grunt. Tiblyn had had the pick of music, of atmosphere, and every time Jemilla had taken off her earbuds to order something or to take a short break, she had been delighted by the ambiance so deftly crafted. The three of them were dear friends and she loved to support a small independent business all the more when she enjoyed the patronage so much.

That Zazzalil, though.

Jemilla loved a good challenge and that woman was a challenge and a half in fun-sized bites. All day they had sat next beside each other and not one moment had Jemilla been allowed to forget it. Zazzalil was loud, bordering on rudely so, for she was always hectic and split between jotting down frantic ideas on any device she owned (Jemilla wondered all day if there was a logic to it) and lazy utter lethargy, both of which seemed to require commentary. She was unpleasant at times, cared nothing for basic courtesy and Jemilla hoped never to see her again.

She saw her again the next day. Jemilla cursed herself for not having arrived sooner, though she was at the doors mere minutes after opening. Briefly, she wondered if Zazzalil had snuck in before the doors even opened, but there she was nursing a jug of black coffee she had just bought, the receipt bunched up on the table along with more devices than any one person would need. Jemilla doubted that Zazzalil had ever adopted even the basics of minimal living. She didn’t look up at Jemilla when she sat at her side in the same seat as yesterday. In fact, she hardly seemed awake at all, her fingers ghosting over her keyboard as she blinked repeatedly but not yet typing.

"Well, you’re looking fresh," Jemilla noted as she set up her own work station.

She glanced at her goals for the day which she had planned out the previous Sunday during her weekly review. Fourteen articles to edit and schedule. Update the landing page accordingly, fix a few images that didn’t snap as they should. Check on her writers for progress and support. All that in a day’s time was more than feasible if she paced herself steady and consistent. Jemilla always did.

"And you’re looking like a beige blob so, business as usual, lady," Zazzalil retorted. She groaned and clutched her forehead in her palm, roughly massaging it. "Fuck, I’m so hungover…"

Jemilla chose not to dwell on the lethargic presence at her side, though a simple sniff told her that Zazzalil had likely not showered since the day before. She had changed clothes, at least. Another hoodie, this time the hood pulled up tight around her face to let pass only the faintest light. Camo shorts, no socks, hairy legs, purple flip-flops. Whatever videos Zazzalil had been editing the day before, they couldn’t have been fashion forward.

The day went on a little more smoothly than the day before, perhaps thanks to Zazzalil’s entire lack of awareness for the larger part of the morning. Jemilla had finished editing six articles by the time Zazzalil opened up her video editing software and a seventh one by the time she actually set out to work on it. Not that Jemilla was looking too closely, of course. They were merely customers of the same business and that was all there was to the situation. They would never be friends, at best annoyed acquaintances. Yet whenever she spoke to the woman, she couldn’t contain herself.

"That’s my drink!" Jemilla cried out when Zazzalil reached and grabbed the wrong jar.

Zazzalil’s tired eyes slowly looked and calculated her mistake at record slow speeds. Two jars next to each other, though Jemilla always used a coaster and Zazzalil, if her observations were accurate, never did, or at least had not in two days and a dozen drinks. One filled with the new drink Jemilla had tried out, a vanilla matcha latte, the other with Zazzalil’s usual pitch black coffee, no cream, no sugar. If Jemilla had made the mistake, she would have been horrified and and would have offered to replace the drink. That was the only polite thing to do. Zazzalil had another idea. Snickering, she took another sip of Jemilla’s drink and gurgled it in her throat.

"Come and get it," she joked, her voice distorted by the liquid in her mouth.

Jemilla stared in disgust and abruptly stood to get another drink. If she had been so inclined, she would have tattled to Emberly on the misdeeds of another customer. Jemilla didn’t believe in involving retail workers in any drama that wasn’t their doing, though, and remained silent, but from that moment forward, the battle was on. And Jemilla was not going to be cowed.

The pranks were harmless, she supposed. Zazzalil didn’t have it in her to put more work into them than the spark of rebellious inspiration in the given moment. Her inspiration though, Jemilla soon found out, was sharp and relentless.

Their presence around each other became a daily threat. She learned that she was a friend of Emberly and Tiblyn’s, though she disliked Grunt, and that she was a lifestyle vlogger. Jemilla could hardly imagine anyone being inspired by Zazzalil’s lifestyle, which seemed a blend between anthropomorphized sloth and reckless parkour addict who ought to be put behind bars for her own safety as well as the public’s. Every day she spent working at the Great Big Thorn brought with it the pain in the ass that was Zazzalil sharing her table. She was insufferably invasive, yet unbothered and asocial at the same time. Zazzalil had no respect for courtesies, for other people, for the very notion of doing things right.

"You can’t fucking _do_ that, Zazz," Jemilla told her about twelve times a day and twelve times a day, she was utterly ignored or boldly disobeyed.

She was a rude customer too, Jemilla thought. Once, she went so far as to leave her seat unattended for a moment as she left the place entirely and Jemilla almost thought she should bring her array of tech to Grunt currently behind the counter to register them for lost and found. Zazzalil made her comeback with a steaming hot burger from a food truck a little way down the street.

"You can’t bring food from another business here," Jemilla cried out in shock at Zazzalil’s audacity, but Zazzalil ignored her. "That’s fucking rude!"

She turned to Grunt to try and involve him, to make him scold her, throw her out, but Grunt only shrugged and went back to the order he had been making for another customer. Zazzalil always got her way. Her bratty, rude way. Jemilla’s many attempts at taming her had no effect whatsoever. She still kept trying. She would not stop until she had her way.

One day, Jemilla arranged for Schwoopsie to meet her at the Great Big Thorn and catch up on what had been going on in each other’s lives since they had last seen each other. It was particular of her, she supposed, to keep close relations with all her exes. In the case of Schwoopsie, the two of them had parted in high school over a decade prior and they had remained in pleasant terms ever since. She thought of her more as a friend, a close acquaintance than an ex − or at least, she had other exes that toyed the line a lot more.

"What are you having?" She asked her as they queued up in line − the shop was having more customers every day, business booming as word of mouth spread of the quality coffee to be had here.

Schwoopsie had barely announced that she’d be having a plain latte with a large chocolate chip cookie that Zazzalil seemed to materialize out of thin air and cut them in line.

"Hey," she told Emberly with a grin. "Black coffee and whatever you’ve got left of chocolate chip cookies."

Jemilla’s mouth dropped open before she caught herself but she refused to involve Emberly in the fight that she had nothing to do with, much less to appear petty in front of Schwoopsie, so she closed it again and clenched her fists instead. Her fingernails dug so deep she almost cut herself and her hands were shaking by the time she was next in line. Zazzalil took her sweet, sweet time walking back to their table at the back with what seemed like a basket full of cookies.

"… and I’ve had another gig at that basement bar I was telling you about. Three people showed up, which was pretty great…"

Schwoopsie was as animated as ever, too engrossed in giving Jemilla all the news of a few months’ time since their last meetup she didn’t seem to notice the glances between Jemilla and Zazzalil. She was fucking impossible. Her eyes were supposedly on her screen but Jemilla knew she wasn’t working, not even a little bit. She had cut up a few cookies in half and was dipping them in black coffee between shoving them in her mouth in the most uncouth way and, every time she picked up another one, she winked at Jemilla, who was fuming more and more with every gross open-mouthed bite. She clenched the handle of her mason jar mug and tried to focus on the woman in front of her instead, the woman she had actually been looking forward to seeing today.

"… the ceiling never really held in place but we’re working on a stronger beam system and I think this time, it won’t collapse on us because…"

She should have never taken Schwoopsie here on the battlefield she shared with Zazzalil. In fact, she never should have accepted the war between them in the first place but then, as she had reflected every day since she had first met Zazzalil a couple of weeks ago, leaving the field free for reaping would be admitting defeat. Jemilla never lost. She never even conceded the possibility.

"… but that’s life, huh? You ever felt like that, Jemilla?"

The jar dropped from Jemilla’s tight grasp as Zazzalil shoved three cookie halves in her mouth at the same time and it splattered across the floor.

"Oh, you’ve made a schwoopsie!" Schwoopsie exclaimed.

She was in a hurry to get everything cleaned up, asking Emberly for a broom and a mop, who was all too happy to provide rather than doing it herself. The accident was quickly unnoticeable, forgotten if it weren’t for Jemilla’s resentment. Zazzalil hadn’t stopped smirking and the basket that had been so full was diminishing in supply at a rapid gluttonous pace. Schwoopsie, who lived more in her thoughts than out of them, was oblivious to the battle of glares that took place again. When she had to leave, Jemilla hugged her close, thinking just how much she would have preferred for Schwoopsie to be her daily coffee shop companion rather than the gargoyle at her side.

"Are you proud of yourself?" She hissed.

Zazzalil popped a piece of cookie in her mouth, which crumbled around her lips and Jemilla fought the urge to wipe her mouth fiercely with a napkin. The next bit of cookie was offered to her but she refused it with disgust.

"What, that you failed to impress your date?" Zazzalil taunted as if this was the most excellent joke she had ever uttered.

Jemilla glared at her. She switched on her tablet and her computer, ignoring the woman at her side if not in words, then in deeds.

"We broke up a long time ago, that ship has sailed," she said coldly eventually. "You were rude to my _friend_ , though."

For the first time, Zazzalil was silenced. Jemilla did not dare to take another glance, fearful to lose the upper hand she was finally having over her. It wasn’t easy to win over someone who cheated the rules, not when you wanted to keep your own righteousness. Jemilla noted with satisfaction that, if nothing else, she had one thing over Zazzalil. Or rather, she had _people_. She had exes. As many of them as it would take.

"Oh, Jay, it’s been so long!" Claire cooed with the same affection as if they were still roommates and girlfriends like several years ago. "I missed you so much."

"Hey, baby," Jemilla said, slinging an arm around her waist to kiss her cheek. "I missed you too, how’re the kids?"

They sat at the table under Zazzalil’s curious gaze. Claire told her of the progress of her toddlers at preschool, how her family was doing, what she had been doing recently, her work at home, how wealthy and happy her and her wives were. Several times, Jemilla mentioned with fondness the old days of dating each other. They had parted on very loving terms, simply realizing that they were each seeking something different from life at that exact moment, but there had always lingered a sense of unachievement she wasn’t sure would ever be fulfilled. A forever won’t-they. She held Claire’s hand across the table, gave her smiles and compliments just as readily as Claire had always handed them out herself.

"Who was that?!" Zazzalil grunted as soon as Claire had left.

Jemilla hummed to herself merrily. So Zazzalil’s attention could be grabbed after all.

"Just someone I dated in college," she said. "Is that a problem?"

Zazzalil grumbled something under her breath, her eyes piercing through her screen as if it held all the secrets of the universe and as if it was vastly more interesting than anything Jemilla could ever say.

"As if I could care about some rando housewife you missed your chance with…"

Jemilla stared. Almost there. She realized she had a better card to play than Schwoopsie, even than Claire. Glancing down at her phone on the table, she seized it and sent a text.

"You look more beautiful than I’ve ever seen you," Clark promised and Jemilla might have shivered with pleasure if she didn’t have a greater purpose in meeting him here.

"Oh, Clark, you’re only trying to flatter me," she said, softly poking his side.

He was just done with a run, she was noticing, nothing on him but a tight tank top and a pair of sweatpants, yet there wasn’t a drop of sweat to be seen. Clark was impeccable in this way, like a new fancier model of humankind that the rest of the world hadn’t produced yet.

"Never, Jay, I would never lie to you." He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against it. "I’m too devoted."

She knew from the moment Zazzalil laid her eyes on him that she had won this round for good. Her mouth half-opened, she was staring at him with even greater interest than she had Claire. Jemilla grinned to herself, but especially to Clark, who had eyes only for her. Some part of her was feeling guilty to bring him into the fight between Zazzalil and herself. Another large part was all fuzzy and excited at seeing him again, though she knew from experience that too much of his sweetness lulled her and that they would never date again for fear she would hurt his feelings on the long run. And the far greater part of herself was thrilled to observe the absolute enamored face of Zazzalil as she forgot all work on any of her many screens and rested her face on an elbow to look at him with heart-shaped eyes. Then, Jemilla started to flirt back with him.

She didn’t know why it mattered to her that Zazzalil should be jealous. If she saw what company Jemilla could keep if she wanted, then surely she might wise up and align herself with those standards. Or maybe this was another trick of Jemilla’s complacent mind, though she preferred not to consider that option. The afternoon passed regardless in the blink of an eye. She saw Clark out and gave him many, many farewells filled with adoration and fondness, all the tender passion that had always existed between them long after she had broken up with him. Out of smugness, she wanted to kiss him, but she thought she had better not drag out his own feelings into this competition he had no part in. Still, promises were made to see each other again good and plenty and she came back to the table at the far end of the shop with a satisfied smug grin.

"Hey, did you see that?"

Zazzalil had a grin of her own to give back. This was always suspicious.

"What the fuck have you done this time?" Jemilla asked, sighing. She checked her seat, her bag, the minimal tech arrangement on her half of the table. Nothing seemed out of order, no whoopee cushion in view, nothing smelled funny. "What is it?"

"Work on your trust issues on your own time, J-Mills," Zazzalil retorted. "I’m too busy to be distracted."

She ostensibly pretended to go back to work, though Jemilla knew better. She always knew better. Narrowing her eyes on Zazzalil, she sat again and took a sip of her latte. She realized at once her mistake.

"For fuck’s…"

She couldn’t finish her words, for the heat was burning her throat, up and down all at once and some of the drink was spat out through her nostrils like a burst of flames. What she managed to swallow was fiery and repulsive and she realized she had stained her pants and would need to walk the rest of the day like she had had an accident of a whole other kind than spat out chai latte. Rushing to her feet, she ran to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

She hated Zazzalil, she _hated_ her. A dozen times, she rinsed out her mouth with clean water but the taste of hot sauce − if that was even what Zazzalil had injected her with − would not go away and she remembered too late that water supposedly made it worse. Milk, she thought she remembered, though her latte had been half milk and none of it had been any soothing. She was about to go ask Emberly about it when Zazzalil entered the bathroom and barred her way out. She was laughing.

"Dude, are you alright?"

Jemilla’s nose and throat and possibly her digestive system later today were a furnace. Her makeup was ruined from having washed her face, her pants were stained and wet. Her soul was all wrath. And Zazzalil was laughing.

"Shut," Jemilla hissed, grabbing Zazzalil by the collar of her hoodie and pinning her to the wall, "the _fuck_ up."

Zazzalil’s eyes widened, likely not having expected an outburst of violence − as if Jemilla wasn’t in her right to riposte for once in their fucking lives. She stared at Jemilla, mouth half-opened, and the breaths came out of her heavy and visible. Dark brown eyes, a flicker of fire in them, that stared intensely. Her hands slowly reached up to cover Jemilla’s at her collarbones. Jemilla breathed in slowly, deeply. She told herself that this might be Zazzalil’s last victory, that she would abandon the coffee shop for good if the answer she was craving came.

"Can I kiss you?" She muttered furiously.

"Sure," Zazzalil muttered back.

The answer was unenthusiastic, but nothing about Zazzalil was lukewarm from the moment their lips met. They poured into the kiss all the times they had hated each other, annoyed each other for weeks. Jemilla felt Zazzalil growl under her and her hands were now clutching Jemilla’s waist to keep her close. She pressed her leg between Zazzalil’s, took at her lips all the horny passion Zazzalil was bursting of. She cupped her face into her palms and there was something too fierce about the kiss, dangerously hot.

"Stall," Zazzalil panted.

"Not an exhibitionist, huh?"

Zazzalil pushed Jemilla off of her only enough as to push open one of the stalls and shoving her into it. Jemilla noted with relief and satisfaction the full door from ceiling to floor − though she wondered if that would have stopped her otherwise.

"Not about to ruin my reputation and good name," Zazzalil retorted.

Her efforts to keep her voice low were only neutered by the moan she gave when Jemilla trapped her against the door again and unbuttoned her denim shorts.

"You have neither," Jemilla said, smirking.

She kissed her. Zazzalil’s lips were chapped, likely from biting them and not bothering with balm. Zazzalil didn’t know how to care for herself. Jemilla, though in this instant she was shameful of it, did. She was finding with horror that she wanted nothing more than to care for Zazzalil in a particular way. Zazzalil tugged down her shorts, parting her legs to wordlessly beg for Jemilla’s touch. Jemilla wasn’t a selfish prick, she wasn’t Zazzalil.

"I didn’t mean fucking in the bathroom, I meant being found here with y… Oh, fuuuuuuck…"

Jemilla twisted her fingers inside of her, rocking her hand to try and match the way Zazzalil’s hips pressed into the touch. She was soaked and Jemilla wondered just how long this had been something Zazzalil had anticipated. Perhaps longer than her, or perhaps Zazzalil lived solely in the moment and got herself ready for anything as it came up.

"You’re hot," Jemilla whispered. She kissed her and Zazzalil bit down on her lip as if to avenge herself for something − or many, many things that had been items of conflict before. "You’re fierce."

"Shut up and fuck me," Zazzalil replied. Her arm wrapped around Jemilla’s shoulders to encourage.

Jemilla could do that just fine. In fact, she prided herself, more than just fine. Her palm pressed heavy against Zazzalil’s clit and she felt her panting at her lips, trying to create more friction with every desperate buck of her hips. Zazzalil always wanted more than she was owed. Jemilla always gave more than others deserved.

"You’re wet," Jemilla added in a voice yet a little lower. Zazzalil whimpered against her neck where her excited breath made a hot patch. "If I’d known this gets you to shut up…"

"It doesn’t," Zazzalil said with bite. "I won’t. You haven’t won."

Jemilla kissed her ear, nibbled on it. Their legs were trapped together and as she fingered Zazz so deliciously, Zazzalil’s thigh was rubbing between hers in a stubborn and exquisite motion too. Almost like defiance, if pleasure could be disobedience here. If this wasn’t what they both wanted in this instant.

"Not yet," she whispered.

She deepened the touch, angled it better and she knew she had, if not the war, then won this battle, for Zazzalil gasped into the crook of her neck and bit down on it just as soon. Jemilla wondered if this was playing dirty, but then, two were playing at that game and there wasn’t any less desire in the way Zazzalil took her caresses than in the way she handed them out. Jemilla had always been eager to please − she now found that Zazzalil could receive her attentions after all, if in an unexpected way.

"That’s it," she said encouragingly. A hand pushed up Zazzalil’s hoodie and, pulling a breast out of her brassiere, she pressed her mouth to it, caught the nipple between her lips and felt it harden. "You see, you can be good."

"What a gross thing to say," Zazzalil retorted. "I’m _always_ good."

"You’re really not."

But Zazzalil was getting close and less in the mood to bite back by the second. Jemilla adored the anticipation, that brief moment just past the point of no return but seconds before the orgasm hit. On Zazzalil, this short snippet of time was as lovely as anything. Jemilla gave the best of herself, which was excellent, everything her fingers and her mouth and her confidence could give Zazz.

"Fuck…"

She had always thought Zazzalil was pretty, but nothing could have prepared her for the stunning sight of her climax. It was goofy, too, some silly grimace twisting her face. It was the most beautiful thing Jemilla had ever seen. Zazzalil’s hips thrusted wildly into hers, seizing every last bit of pleasure she could. Jemilla felt the tight clamp of her around her fingers and her breath almost came up short, so fascinated she was by it as very slowly it ran its course and Zazzalil was all limp again in her arms. She whimpered weakly. Her legs were shaking badly and when she sank to her knees, Jemilla half believed she had fallen there. All doubt was erased when her hands clutched Jemilla’s thighs, no hesitation in the kisses that climbed up over the fabric. Jemilla let out a sharp breath when she unbuckled her belt and pulled down her pants and underwear. Zazzalil’s breath was hot against her skin and Jemilla felt her fingers take hold of her own. For a moment, she was about to tease the needless and unwanted schmaltz but she very soon found out Zazzalil had a very different idea as she clasped Jemilla’s hand in her ponytail to make her lock her in place between her legs.

"Fuck, that’s hot," Jemilla muttered.

She held Zazzalil’s face firmly there, though Zazz herself showed little sign of reluctance anyways. She groaned as she began to kiss − and to lick and to suck and even, if Jemilla wasn’t dreaming it, to bite a little. She was a hurricane unfurling on her and had none of the technique, but perhaps all the creativity and the passion to do her right anyways. Her tongue lapped at her clit, her fingers pressed inside, first two then quickly adding a third, so hurried and bold. Jemilla moaned. She tugged at Zazzalil’s ponytail at first accidentally, but when Zazzalil’s face popped to look up at her and she saw the way her chin was glistening wetly, the veiled and leisurely way her eyes smiled up at her, she tugged a lot more decidedly. Zazzalil moaned and she dove back between her legs again even more eager than before.

"Do it quick," Jemilla said, more like an order than a wish. Her leg wrapped over Zazzalil’s shoulder, a heel digging at her back. "I don’t want to be caught here."

"Oh, like you have a reputation and a half to maintain," Zazzalil snorted. She was so entranced in the action her voice came out a slur and her lips were so close to Jemilla she felt every word against her skin. "I’ll be as quick as I want."

But as in all things, Zazzalil wanted the smug pride of victory and Jemilla groaned at her renewed efforts to pleasure her, the thick slide of her fingers in and out, the insistent caress around her clit, not enough yet way too much at the same time. Zazzalil never really knew what she was doing, not in the details, yet for the first time Jemilla was finding out that a burst of impulsivity wasn’t bad at all. She pushed herself into Zazzalil’s mouth, took what was so freely given.

"Mmh, that was nice," she said and perhaps to taunt her, Zazzalil switched the touch she had been giving her instantly − but everything she did was good, every horny idea exactly right. "You’re so good today, Zazz."

"Don’t get used to it," Zazzalil retorted, though there was a smirk at her lips before they met with Jemilla’s again between her legs.

Jemilla was in a hazy little cloud of pleasure and no longer to be teased. With her hand, she directed Zazzalil’s mouth the way she liked it and, perhaps because she did want to make it quick after all, Zazzalil followed along obediently. Their eyes were solely on each other’s when Jemilla came with a moan she didn’t even try to muffle anymore. Zazzalil kept at it, pushing her way past over the edge, trapping her there, something wicked in her glance, like their pleasure was just another way to get revenge at each other. Jemilla’s fingers slowly loosened from her hair.

"So, this was…"

But Jemilla had no idea how to finish her thought, if she could even articulate it to herself. She loosened her leg from around Zazzalil, who slouched to the ground, squeezing her eyes tight and leaning back against the wall, sighing. Then she was in full motion all of a sudden, rubbing her mouth clean and jumping to her feet. She scrambled to buckle her shorts again, to put more order into her appearance than she ever did. Before Jemilla could utter a word, she was dashing out of the stall, nearly running away.

"Zazz…"

Zazzalil was in a hurry to unplug all her devices and, without any caution or order, shove everything she owned into her backpack. She chugged down the last of her drink in one dangerously long gulp.

"Zazzalil, can we just…"

But Zazzalil left without so much as a glance, a brisk pace to the door that was so close to a trot it was near comical. Jemilla wasn’t amused. She didn’t know what she was, though. She sat back on her half of the table, which seemed desperately empty all of a sudden. She had never thought that before. The rest of the day went on in a blur. Briefly, she considered calling back Clark, but she decided against it. She went home in the evening and numbed her mind with Netflix till she was too tired to keep watching. Then she went to sleep.

The night brought her the resolve that what they had done had likely been an oddity. She did not particularly expect Zazzalil to talk to her again or even to show her face to the Great Big Thorn, yet in the morning, she was there once again, a miraculous vision passing the front door. She ordered her usual black coffee, sat on the left side of the table, scattered all of her possessions across the surface she allotted herself as she always did. Didn’t glance at Jemilla once while she did so. Jemilla couldn’t tear her eyes from her, observing as Zazzalil, more alert than ever, set herself to work with a rare application and focus. Was this their new reality? Perhaps a mutual avoidance was the best for both of them, too far once and for all. Jemilla was about to get back to her own work when Zazzalil grabbed a napkin and scribbled something on it. She slid it across the table.

It was an address. The handwriting was messy cursive and the ball pen had scratched the fragile layer of tissue paper, but Jemilla could read the words crystal clear. An exact address down to the details to the threshold, second floor, fifth door on the right. At the bottom, ’6pm tonight?’ and two checkboxes. Jemilla glanced at Zazzalil, who was sipping her coffee and checking her emails. She smirked and checked the "yes" box before sliding the napkin back across the table. Opening her calendar, she logged in the location and time of the rendezvous and Zazzalil broke the silence first, having spied on her.

"I can’t fucking stand how prep you are," she blurted out. "Dessert at Zazzalil’s, are you serious?"

Jemilla kept her eyes on her screen, switching back to her work page, but the smirk was burning her up and she sipped her tea.

"Don’t be bitter, babe," she said, "And I’ll treat you really sweet tonight, too."

Zazzalil grumbled, but she grabbed the napkin back and tore it into pieces. They carefully avoided each other all day long and if Jemilla hadn’t know any better, she would have found Zazzalil a very conciliant and reserved table neighbor indeed.

Zazzalil lived in a large building that looked just as anonymous as any other on a block littered with similar edifices. Though not particularly shady, there was an impersonal quality to the identical yellow-ish halls Jemilla threaded before reaching the right door. _Zazzalil Jaeger_ , the copper sign said. She knocked. The door opened almost at the same time and she wondered if Zazzalil had been waiting behind it or if this was coincidental.

"H…"

But Zazzalil gave her no time for greetings, pulling her by the collar inside the apartment and, the door slamming behind her, she pushed her against it and cut her words with a wild and feral kiss Jemilla smiled into. It was as though all the clashing frustration that had been brewing between them was merging into a different sort of passion in this instant, yet it only took one glance at the room for Jemilla to remember everything that annoyed her about the woman presently latched at her neck.

"This place is nasty."

Zazzalil’s teeth nibbled at her lip and made her groan. She pushed her off gently but, rather than reversing their positions, walked her backwards to the nearest surface she could find, which turned out to be the couch. Much like the rest of the room, it was cluttered with clothes, some dirty and some not, with all sorts of trinkets and papers and phones and cameras and even the occasional workout equipment. It ruined the pretty picture of an otherwise completely fine view, a large window in the corner bathing the apartment in bright sunlight, old furniture she must have thrifted, mismatched as it was. In this instant, all her frustration at the messy, dirty apartment merged once more into lust and her hand slipped between Zazzalil’s legs to caress over the fabric of her shorts crudely.

" _You’re_ nasty," Zazzalil retorted with a smug grin Jemilla kissed away.

The fire burned hot and fierce all evening. As ardently as their demeanors opposed one another, their desires matched so perfectly Jemilla wondered if she had ever fucked anybody this well, this willingly. Zazzalil was demanding, as lazy as she was generous from one moment to the next, she took and begged for Jemilla’s touch almost as relentlessly as Jemilla was willing to hand it to her. Jemilla had always preferred to lead the way in life as well as in bed, yet she was finding that she obliged to Zazzalil’s whims so easily she wondered if this was their second time or their thousandth together. When finally Zazzalil had had her fill and given it back with as much passion, they decided they couldn’t move an inch anymore and sank into the mattress they had moved to at some point during the night.

"Okay," Zazzalil said hesitantly. "Okay, so I’d say we can get along on _some_ level."

Jemilla nodded, a little tired. She sat up to pull her underwear and her blouse back on. Her body was aching and she stretched her arms in all her length. She’d have to leave at some point, she knew, but perhaps not before having ticked one more item from her mental list.

"On that level, I suppose we can," she said. "Zazz, we have to lay some ground rules."

Zazzalil grunted in response and rolled flat on her back to take up the space Jemilla had just vacated. She made no reply otherwise and Jemilla went on.

"I was thinking the usual friends with benefits agreement…"

Zazzalil chuckled meanly.

"We’re not friends."

Jemilla knew better than to meet that with a reply and ignored the remark.

"No strings attached, we don’t tell anyone about this and we don’t catch feelings. Is that alright with you?"

This was the standard conditions she had asked of her former partners of a similar nature and they had always been met with approval. Occasionally, the feelings clause of the agreement had been the reason of the relation ending, but that had been part of the game, too. Jemilla liked to know where she stood.

"Gee, J-Mills, I don’t fucking care, sure. _Whatever_."

She frowned. Zazzalil was sprawled across the bed in an X, staring at the ceiling. Her hair was a fuzzy circle around her head, all messed up from having been clasped and held onto. Jemilla rinsed her eye on the pretty sight unashamed, though her annoyance was quickly rising back to previous levels preceding yesterday.

" _I_ do," she retorted.

"Yeah, well, you care about many boring things and I just don’t," Zazzalil sighed. "There’s no risk here, I promise. If anything, _that’s_ why you and I will never date."

Jemilla thought about it and frowned deeper at the realization that, on this point, she and Zazzalil were in perfect agreement.


	2. The Ceasefire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemilla and Zazzalil seem to have reached some sort of agreement − OR HAVE THEY???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goal for this fic is one chapter every other week so I’ll be finished approx mix August I guess. I CAN’T HANDLE MORE. My top priority is to finish my magic AU "The Greatest Power of All" before November and it takes a LOT of time from me. 
> 
> A censored no smut version of this chapter is available here: https://www.notion.so/Chapter-2-The-Ceasefire-Safe-version-f4f4855baeee44b5a154c99b15a6b9b8

They met up at Zazzalil’s exactly once. The place was too cluttered, impossible for Jemilla to focus in, though their second time had been marvelous despite that. It was messy, though, and not exactly clean either. The sex was good, even excellent, but it would be just as well if, as they both seemed intent on making this a regular situation rather than an odd pair of incidents, they would do it with the greater comfort their respective situations allowed. She had requested that they met only at her place and Zazzalil had nonchalantly accepted.

But how she made her regret every invitation. Perhaps worse than before their little trysts in the bathroom of the Great Big Thorn, she was impossible to coexist with. The pranks were constant and relentless all day as they sat next to each other to work − if Zazzalil was capable of working, if Zazzalil ever did a thing for a greater purpose than her immediate gratification. Jemilla wondered if this was intended, if perhaps Zazzalil didn’t successfully grate her nerves even more than her natural tendency for the purpose of having her on the edge, shaking with the electricity of how fucking annoyed she was by the end of the day. That energy always found a way to pour out and it did so at Zazzalil’s advantage, for sure.

"You’re invading my space again," Jemilla growled, looking at the several devices that had been firmly camped on Zazzalil’s side of the table before her pee break and now lay plain on her own half of the surface. "You’re fucking impossible."

Zazzalil gave her a mocking whimper, faking guilt.

"Oh, I’m so sorry, professor," she cooed. "Am I gonna get detention?"

Jemilla gave her a side glance − if looks could kill − but kept her mouth shut. Zazzalil wasn’t to be argued with, so childish Jemilla would have had to stoop much too low to reach her. There was no battle to be won there, not if she avoided the war altogether.

At home, though, she was the victor without a doubt. She conquered and reigned and Zazzalil loved it all the more for how much she had taunted her to reach that point, she knew.

"Fuuuuuuck…"

Zazzalil was moaning, squirming in place as Jemilla pinned her hands over her head on the kitchen table. Here, she could and did take as much space as she wanted, sprawled across so obscenely Jemilla patted herself on the back for how well she kept her countenance, for how good she fucked her still, the focus she was able to maintain. _She_ could set herself a goal and reach it. Zazzalil was scattered in everything and even now she was lost in all things at once.

"How’s that for detention, Zazz?" She snarled, though she relented her grasp on Zazzalil’s hands at her words − she never meant to truly demean or control her.

Zazzalil kept them there anyways, uninterested in freeing herself from Jemilla’s hold. In an odd turn of events, she seemed to enjoy being bossed around in bed − and on the couch, against any wall, on the coffee table, twice on the carpet itself, in the shower and, yes, on the kitchen table. Jemilla assigned that to her characteristic laziness, though she couldn’t have said why the flaw so annoying when they had to work side by side was the most enticing trait she could have asked for in this benefits situation. Not quite friends with benefits, for they lacked the friendship, but the benefits were good and plenty and more days than not.

"I-I don’t think I got it yet," Zazzalil fake protested. "Teach me again."

The sight was exquisite, of course. Zazzalil was hot, she was beautiful, she was enticing and on those nights she came knocking and begging, she was Jemilla’s. Her back arching from the table made her breasts bounce just right, her hair loose and flowing around her head a little wild, and Jemilla couldn’t stop staring at the way the strap-on dildo plunged in her over and over, how wet she was from it, how well she took every thrust of Jemilla’s hips into hers. She had caught one leg against her chest, the knee hooked over her shoulder, and the other was now looping around Jemilla’s waist to deepen the angle and to keep her close.

"I’ll fucking teach you," Jemilla said. Leaning, she kissed her fiercely but Zazzalil was too distracted, too caught up in her own pleasure to share it. "Look here, babe."

Zazzalil looked at her − what a pretty thing to look at, those warm brown eyes veiled with arousal, tired with it even. Jemilla rubbed fingers at her clit in circles and Zazzalil gave another moan. She was so slick, so loose. With wet fingers, Jemilla traced up her belly to cup a breast and caress the nipple there which was hard and perfect. All of Zazzalil was such a beauty, tender skin ready to be pleased and adored. All the bratty ways translating into the most demanding partner, yet so easy to satisfy if Jemilla put in the effort. Jemilla always put in the effort.

"You’re so pretty," she told Zazzalil, who pushed herself all the better onto that dumb silicon dick that had been their best friend for weeks, not every time but often.

"Yeah," Zazzalil said, nodding lazily. Her hand covered Jemilla’s to beg for her to touch her better, fuller, fondling the breast irresistibly as it jiggled under her thrusts. "Yeah, you’re kinda hot too."

A kiss against her lips again, but down her neck and down to the breasts, fingers and tongue and lips working in tandem there till Zazzalil’s hands were clutching her shoulders to keep herself steady too. Surely, the table must have been too hard a surface for her comfort but Zazzalil was ever adapting, taking Jemilla’s attentions wherever she would give them. No lover could have been as receptive.

"I’m gonna come again," she muttered and closed her eyes. "Don’t stop."

Just the same as Zazzalil was more docile, a little more mellow when Jemilla had her underneath herself to fuck as well as she pleased than when they were outside of this apartment, Jemilla gave here a more obliging version of herself in return as well. Whatever bouts of pleasure she offered, she did so freely and generously and hearing Zazzalil’s words, she made sure to see it through the best she could. At her breasts to tease and entice, but best of all between her legs, she had Zazzalil well taken care of, both wholly at her mercy and in total control. If Zazz had said anything at all, if she had given her a reason to pause the agreement… But she never did and in this moment like any time prior, she took all of Jemilla’s so willingly given attentions.

"Fuck… C’mon, almost there…"

Whether she was talking to herself or to Jemilla, she would not know. In the next breath, her body was tensing up and she groaned so lusciously, everything unmistakable in the way she held onto Jemilla from everywhere, in the racing rush of her heartbeat underneath her lips. Jemilla gave it all to her, pursued the pleasure till it had entirely ran its course and finally, Zazzalil flopped back onto the surface of the table like a loose piece of cloth and her legs dangled from the edge. Jemilla pulled out with a wet sound that made Zazzalil snort and open her eyes again.

"Go take a shower," Jemilla ordered. "Or at least pee, you’ll get a UTI if you don’t."

Zazzalil leaned up on her elbows to give her a smirk. Her legs parted, how drenched in between, the flushed pink of her cheeks, she was still a sight to behold.

"Make me," she said, cocking an eyebrow, but Jemilla had a hand on her hip and a resolve strong as steel, and she climbed off the table all too obediently. "Alright…"

Jemilla sent her on her way with a soft slap at the ass and before long the water was running in the bathroom − Zazzalil had left the door open, but she never had any sense of manners and Jemilla refused to take the hint. She unstrapped, washed and dried the dildo before putting it away neatly again on the top shelf of her closet. There, she dressed somewhat more decently than the pair of boxers she had taken from the very woman now humming in her shower. She was hardly certain Zazzalil would take them back anyways, who loved to linger in the nude. She loved to shock and to annoy and to intrude. Intrusion was no longer quite it, the sight very welcome for as long as she was here. Between these walls, the hate turned to lust and was forgotten.

"Loving your new shower gel," Zazzalil said as she walked out of the bathroom. "It smells nice as fuck, what is it, peach or something?"

As per Jemilla’s prediction, she was entirely naked and her skin glistened with water still dripping as she wrapped only her hair in the towel she had borrowed. She picked up her hoodie from the back of the couch where Jemilla had folded it during her shower and pulled it on over her still wet body. Jemilla grimaced at the thought, but Zazzalil’s comfort was out of her hands as soon as her climax had ran its course and it was her own responsibility to create it when they weren’t having sex.

"Yeah, peach strawberry, but you know, you could buy some of your own," Jemilla offered. "And use it in your own damn house, Zazz, instead of hogging my crap."

"You can’t force me to shower and also scold me for making do, J-Mills, that’s not how it works."

She huffed in retort. Zazzalil plopped on the couch numbly and Jemilla pushed up her legs, folding them so she wouldn’t leave so much of a wet spot. Zazzalil let herself be maneuvered and her head fell back over the edge of the couch, staring upside down at the ceiling and the wall behind, but the moment Jemilla’s hands left her legs she unfolded them again on top of Jemilla’s lap next to her.

"Oh, it’s that dude again," she said, pointing. "The hot one."

She was pointing at a picture of Clark and Jemilla on the bookshelf. Out of minimalist ideology, Jemilla only kept one frame for every partner she had had and as such, her shelf was more pictures than books. She hummed to acknowledge the remark, but grabbed her phone to check her reminders and browse her to-do list for the evening. Zazzalil was staying a little longer than planned, though the reward was well worth it. Perhaps in the future, Jemilla would have to adjust the time she assigned to these meet ups. An hour had turned into two narrowing on three by the time they had had their fill.

"Who is he anyways? What’s the deal with him and you?"

The fingers of Jemilla’s free hand were scratching Zazzalil’s calves mindlessly, enjoying the fuzz and the soft skin underneath. So much of Zazzalil was precious and pleasant, if only there wasn’t such an attitude to spoil it.

"He’s my ex-fiancé," she said simply after a moment.

There wasn’t much more she particularly wanted to tell Zazzalil about the brief but intense time she had shared with Clark. It was already more than Zazzalil had any right to know.

"You guys broke up?"

Jemilla huffed, ticking the checkbox of the successful rendezvous of this afternoon.

"That’s what ex means, yes."

"Why’d you break up?"

More and more, Zazzalil was forcing herself a space into Jemilla’s life she had never asked for. Though there was likely little affection behind it, Zazzalil’s curiosity reigned over everything she did and observed and her questions were constant. She was equally interested in Jemilla as a study subject as she was in her as a sex partner and, unfortunately, as a target of bullying. Jemilla could take it, of course, but that didn’t mean she took it gladly. All the lesser so when Zazzalil never seemed to offer such answers about herself.

"People break up, Zazz."

"Huh."

Zazzalil’s legs were bouncing again, always fretting with something, and she was again glancing around the room for any straw she might grasp at. Jemilla’s hand forced them still, but instead, Zazzalil sat up very suddenly and they found themselves much closer than Jemilla had anticipated and she startled.

"Did you like, peg him?"

Jemilla promised herself she would not say a thing. Nothing came out of her mouth at all, if for the way it quirked up and Zazzalil burst out laughing, dropping back onto the couch where she bounced once or twice comfortably. Nothing at all on her but the hoodie, the towel laying on the floor where it had dropped. Jemilla knew in advance she would be the one picking that up.

"You totally did!" Zazzalil snorted. "Oh jeez."

"That’s none of your business," Jemilla said, hiding her smirk. "Now get going, I have work to do."

One leg dropped to the ground, parting a little, and Jemilla’s eyes wandered despite herself.

"Do you really?"

Thirty minutes later, Zazzalil rolled off of Jemilla’s face and onto her bed. In a rare gesture of softness and likely only because she was tired, she snuggled against her side and Jemilla, who had never thought she would receive such affection from her, gave the embrace all the same.

"I’m gonna be exhausted tomorrow," Zazzalil muttered. "I’ll probably be a brat, fair warning."

"Oh, no," Jemilla retorted with sass, "How am I gonna handle that for the first time ever?"

She touched her skin softly, the pretty curve of her shoulder. A tattoo caught her attention for the first time and she paid it a closer look. The shamrock that had been so bright the other day was faded and veering to grays. Curious, Jemilla traced the round shape of it with the tip of her finger and found the outline peeling away at her light touch. She smirked.

"My fucking god," she said, "Are those sticker tattoos? How fucking old are you, Zazz? Can't you commit to anything at all?"

Zazzalil glanced down at the point of contact. Jemilla tickled her fingers there to make her snort.

"First of all, I'm Jewish so don't be offensive, J-Mills, I _can't_ have real tattoos," she retorted smugly. "Second, fuck you for only noticing now that I change these up all the time."

She sat up to straddle Jemilla's hips again and her hands caught her there, gentle circles of her thumbs against her thighs.

"And third of all," she said, stretching her arms to expose the whole of her and the, Jemilla was now noticing indeed for the first time, many, many temporary tattoos that marred her skin, "I'm sure you'd hate it even more if all of those were permanent so pick your hill to die on, dude."

"I’ll pick all the hills I want," she said, smirking. Sitting up, she made Zazzalil scramble off of her lap as she picked up all her clothes for her. "Now shoo, go home, I’ll see you tomorrow."

Zazzalil reluctantly dressed again, shoving the boxers in the pocket of her sweatpants, which made Jemilla oddly hot in the face. Zazzalil had a way to be seductive in the crudest ways. Finally decent again, she grabbed her bag, ready to go.

"Well, I’ll blame my UTI on you if I get one this time," she said. "See you in hell."

But she was grinning when she waved her goodbyes and Jemilla shut the door behind her.

"Gross," she said out loud to an empty room and heard Zazzalil snort on the other side of the door. Then, finally, she was alone.

The studio felt strangely empty of Zazzalil the moment she was gone. It was odd, how Jemilla had gotten accustomed to her insufferable presence for the reward of great sex. It wasn’t that they shared much beyond that. Zazzalil pressed her for personal details on any and everything that crossed her mind, but more out of a naturally curious disposition than any interest for Jemilla. She gave very little information about herself in return. At the coffee shop, they still switched between pretending they didn’t know each other, or bickering fiercely and openly.

In secret, she had taken to watching Zazzalil’s YouTube channel to see the results of the many laborious hours of editing she had witnessed over the course of the few months they had known each other. She wasn’t certain of what she had expected other than the senseless, vulgar mess of random clips shoved together into a semblance of a vlog. Zazzalil’s life was hectic and always on the verge of some catastrophe. It was a trainwreck she had started to watch guiltily but religiously, every video as soon as it was out. She would never tell Zazzalil that she did, of course, but she felt an odd sense of satisfaction in learning more about Zazzalil that way, if she would tell her nothing of her own volition. On the rare occasions when she dared to ask anything, Zazzalil gave blatant lies for an answer and Jemilla was more frustrated from having asked than if she had said nothing at all. The failure of her efforts only made her more secure in her decision to limit her attachment to Zazzalil to a strictly sexual arrangement.

She knew better than anyone how easily sex bled into more than just the sum of its parts, though. She had experienced it many, many times.

"Hey," Zazzalil grumbled that night, pushing open the door before Jemilla had even had the time to utter any greeting.

She was looking rather worse for the wear than her usual − which was already not at a peak. Her hair was unwashed and tied in a disheveled bun at the nape of her neck and she was wearing yesterday’s clothes. She had not washed and her eyes were puffy. Jemilla had not thought that it was ever in Zazzalil’s nature to cry, but she supposed she did not know all that much about the woman she fucked several times a week. Her deeper emotions, if Zazzalil had any, were normally kept so tightly to herself Jemilla was almost not believing the sight of them now. Zazzalil crashed onto the bed and pulled off her sweater, wearing nothing underneath, but stopped in her tracks when she glanced at Jemilla, who realized she had been staring.

"What?" She asked with a frown. "Did you text me to cancel or something?"

"No," Jemilla said. Hesitantly, she approached her and sat opposite on the bed, but made no particular move to initiate what had so far in this arrangement been the point of every visit. "What’s, erm, what’s wrong?"

Zazzalil took off her army boots, wriggling her bare toes finally free from their bonds. She made to tug down her jeans but Jemilla stopped her there with a hand.

"Zazz, I’m not gonna fuck you like this."

This was not what Zazzalil had been hoping for. Likely, she had wanted to ignore anything out of the ordinary altogether, but Jemilla didn’t have it in her to fuck a crying girl, no matter how hot and how often and well she had fucked her already.

"Why the fuck not?"

Jemilla paused.

"Well, first of all you don’t look like you’ve showered but mostly, you look like shit, I don’t want to do it if you’re upset. What’s wrong?"

Zazzalil was glaring at her viciously and Jemilla thought she saw her eyes glisten wet again, but she blinked and it was gone. She grabbed Jemilla’s hand and, pulling it from her lap, placed it back on the bed with great resolve.

"People break up, J-Mills."

A sudden touch of guilt poked at Jemilla, which turned to a punch as she realized the role she might have played in this and she cried out.

"What the fuck, you were dating somebody this whole time?!"

Zazzalil seemed to startle at the outburst but her eyes widened with understanding and she justified herself hastily.

"I didn’t _cheat_ or anything," she said with great conviction. "We weren’t like, exclusive, Keeri knew about… well, she didn’t know about _you_ but she knew I wasn’t being… that we weren’t…"

She rubbed her eyes roughly with the back of her hand and sniffed loudly.

"I don’t think we were even really dating," she sighed. "We were just… something. And now we’re not."

She took a glimpse at Jemilla but looked away just as soon. What a sight for sore eyes she was, sitting there in just a pair of torn black jeans and nothing else, messier and less put together than Jemilla had ever seen her with already rock bottom standards established. She had come from a quick (or not so quick) fuck to forget herself, probably. Probably, she trusted Jemilla with that. Slowly, Jemilla stood up and there was something pitiful about Zazzalil’s large pleading eyes, like the spark had gone from them for a moment. Jemilla had never seen them without and her heart throbbed with compassion even for Zazz.

"C’mere," she whispered and offered Zazzalil a hand.

For a moment, she thought she wanted to hug her and she rubbed up and down Zazzalil’s arms once or twice, but she lost the courage and led her by the hands instead. Zazzalil was not always so hard to guide.

The bathtub was a little cranked for two but Jemilla didn’t mind the tight fit. The soap had made a thick layer of bubbles which was only slowly popping away and Zazzalil was loose and soft in her touch. When Jemilla massaged her scalp with her bar of shampoo, she could almost hear her purr, so relaxed in her hands. The loose curls were thicker under her fingers when they were wet and bubbly. Softly, she rinsed them out. Zazzalil leaned her head back to make the task easier, grabbing onto every bit of attention Jemilla was throwing her way. Her hands were clasped at Jemilla’s knees and her eyes had been closed the entire time. There was a small heart-shaped tattoo at the back of her neck and Jemilla pressed her lips to it as she pulled her hair to the side over her shoulder.

"She doesn’t know what she’s missing," she said softly against Zazzalil’s skin. "That Keeri."

Zazzalil didn’t reply. She didn’t even show any sign of having heard Jemilla, though she must have, such a narrow space, nothing else in the world to focus on except, perhaps, her own thoughts straying from who she was really with tonight. Jemilla finished washing her with the soap Zazzalil liked to borrow so much, paying attention to every part of her body before she was even set to truly touch them with intent. Out of the bath, she wrapped her in a big and warm towel and it was strange, how lethargic Zazzalil stood there letting herself be dried off and doted on. Jemilla couldn’t help herself, she supposed, always an urge to please and to serve even brats like Zazzy. Perhaps she even enjoyed it a little bit. She wrapped an arm around her waist from behind to speak at her ear again and could have shivered at the cuddly way Zazzalil leaned back into her in return.

"Do you still wanna have sex?"

Zazzalil nodded lazily. She let herself be taken to bed, laid down, though she woke a little at Jemilla’s kisses on her lips and there was some bite to her again soon. A hand at her stomach, some muscle there but loose and soft from the lack of effort. Up to her breast, merely the hint of a caress to grab her interest, and Jemilla looked into Zazzalil’s eyes.

"Tell me how she fucked you."

Now she felt her tense up and Zazzalil frowned again.

"Jemilla…"

The hand slid between her legs, past the damp curls of hair and found her clit, rolling it under her fingers. Grimace all she could, Zazzalil’s breath hitched at the touch.

"Was she rough?"

She pinched a nipple between thumb and index, pursed her lips around it with passion and felt the heartbeat just under the skin. Her fingers pressed heavy against the clit, making Zazzalil squirm and contort herself into it, yet away at the same time.

"Was she gentle?"

Suddenly the caress at her breast was tender, suckling gently before pressing a trail of butterfly kisses along the round of Zazzalil’s breast to the other. Between her legs, she tip tapped against the thigh then back to feel the wetness there not just from the bath. One finger inside pushed slowly in and out and felt her so very warm around.

"Was she…"

" _Stop_ ," Zazzalil said abruptly.

Jemilla stopped. The finger pulled out slickly and she leaned up from Zazzalil’s chest to look into her eyes. Zazzalil gulped with some unusual nervousness from her, normally so sure of herself. Or maybe she was certain of what she didn’t want, but not so much of what she did. Her legs wrapped around Jemilla’s to keep her locked in, affirming how much she wanted her close yet the words took some time to follow.

"I… I really don’t want you to fuck me like her," she said, looking more at the ceiling than at Jemilla. She tugged at Jemilla’s wrist to make her touch her again, the same fingering as before except perhaps more intent, more on the edge. "I want you to fuck me like you."

They looked at each other for a moment that lingered on, marked only by the push in and out of two fingers, the slow caress of Zazzalil’s toes against her calf. Finally, Jemilla smiled.

"I think I can do that."

Jemilla worked the entire next day. That would have been typical, if not for the fact that all these few months, every day had been intercut with at least a handful of interruptions, often many more, only capable of decent work on the rare days Zazzalil was absent. She was definitely at the coffee shop with her that day, though, and welcomed Jemilla with a smile and a cookie she slid on top of a napkin to her side of the table without uttering a word − Jemilla’s favorite flavor. Not one hair was stepping out of her half, all her devices arranged in somewhat of a neat pile on the outer edge of the space that was hers. Her jug of coffee was placed on a coaster and she smelled of nice cologne without it being too overwhelming.

"Morning," Jemilla said, smiling back. "You look nice."

Zazzalil nodded to acknowledge her, but went back to her screen. She seemed that day intent on working with as much focus as Jemilla always did. Jemilla tried to pretend she wasn’t sneaking peaks at her work, but several times during the day she heard Zazzalil sigh in satisfaction and then check off something from a list, and she went back to her own work with a smile of pride on behalf of her. For lunch, she grabbed something for both of them from Tiblyn and they ate together in comfortable silence. She edited more posts than she had even planned for the day, digging into the work of the next day in advance.

Her work day was drawing to a close and she wondered for a moment if Zazzalil was also letting it drag on and on or if she was being too hopeful. She wondered when she had started to hope for such things. Grabbing a pen from her messenger bag, she jotted down a few words on a napkin, two checkboxes, and slid it across the table to Zazz.

"You can’t fucking keep calling it ’dessert’, J-Mills, Jesus fuck."

But there was an amused smirk at her lips as she checked the box for ’Yes’ and handed her back the paper. Jemilla pocketed it.

"Sounds like someone _doesn’t_ want her dessert tonight," she said, "But you’ll get it anyways if you’re good, Zazzy, just you wait."

Zazzalil was good. Jemilla didn’t know why her eyes had been opened so suddenly. She didn’t know if they had, even, or if she was only just now realizing the fact that she had always known how great Zazzalil was deep down. A knock at her door that night and Zazzalil was treated as well as the night before, better even.

"Hey, babe," she said, pulling her inside to kiss her.

There was something softer between tonight, though she didn’t know what or if she was making it up in her own mind. She thought there was something tender about the way Zazzalil whimpered under her tongue, the caress of her fingers through her hair as they looked at each other all the time Jemilla ate her out − which was a long time. Zazzalil also took her time more when she gave back, paying more attention to Jemilla’s desires and cues, smiling and teasing more all the while. Something playful but without the usual bite.

It didn’t feel like they were enemies waging a war at each other anymore. It didn’t feel like a war at all. Her hand in Zazzalil’s, smiling down at her and feeling her smile between her legs as Zazzalil gave her a second round by her own wish, it felt very much like peace. She liked the spark in her eyes, the warmth, the determination. She was full with it, pampered beyond measure and when they were done, there wasn’t a moment of hesitation before Zazzalil came cuddling in her arms, pushing their legs together for a close embrace.

"Hey," Jemilla whispered.

She pushed fingers through Zazzalil’s hair, smiled. Kissed her lips and Zazzalil kissed her back as she wrapped an arm comfortably around her shoulders to nestle snug and hot against her.

"Hey," she replied and her head took Jemilla’s shoulder for a pillow.

Their breaths heaved together in quiet harmony and after some time, Jemilla realized that Zazzalil had fallen asleep there. She kissed the top of her head and turned off the lights, wrapping covers around them.

The next morning, Zazzalil was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment!!!


	3. The Three Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s been a change in the climate ~ Jemilla eventually manages to get Zazzalil to discuss the changes she’s perceived in their relation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry these chapters keep coming out shorter than the previous ones, I am not in control of the muse :/ Please note that although this chapter has some heavy makeout, it contains no actual sexual content.

Jemilla spent the day convincing herself that nothing had gone amiss. If she had no evidence of anything having truly gone wrong, then she could not admit it and the very thought of giving such power to the worries of her fretting mind was insufferable. It was a day off, at any rate, which she spent taking care of a home that felt gapingly empty with just herself here. Her minimalist home had never felt lacking of anything till it was missing just the one thing she wanted there.

She did her morning workout, the same weekend routine as ever, a light meditation to end it well. A fresh smoothie for breakfast, another round of meditation but she was restless as ever despite it. She was having the hardest time emptying her mind and kept latching onto passing thoughts of inadequacy, of loneliness. Jemilla had never thought she would mourn her own independence. Of course, there was the thought of inviting someone over to pass her time distracting herself, someone who wasn’t a bratty disobedient woman half tamed and half feral. One of her exes, perhaps someone new she could swipe right on, the options were wide and open but Jemilla was in no mood for any of them. She was not particularly in the mood for staying on her own either, but she supposed that of all the choices available, this was the least embarrassing.

Zazzalil didn’t text her all day. This wasn’t unexpected. They had each other’s numbers for the basic communication sometimes required for their little arrangement, to check on the time or date of a meetup, but they had never used it for conversation otherwise. Any casual chatting that didn’t directly concern their endeavors was done in person, if at all. To make up for the lack of it, all day Jemilla found herself imagining Zazz present here all across her studio, sprawled over whichever piece of furniture she elected, teasing and joking around, poking fun at her every time she was here. Why had she left this morning? Even to be awake before Jemilla was a feat, but out the door and gone? Why if not for a very specific reason, for purposeful avoidance? A fear kept jabbing at Jemilla’s guts that she would never see her pass this door again, that the knock would not come once more with the goofy smirk and the bad guest manners. That they would never kiss again, that she would never hold her close as she had.

She hated to think herself so soft and weak for someone she had sworn never to like or fall for. It would be ridiculous and unthinkable to ask for reassurance. Jemilla didn’t like to look like she needed reassurance, much less from Zazzalil, who had been nothing but a pain in her ass and not at all someone she ought to beg for attention. Jemilla prided herself in her strength and stability, how devoted she was fiercely counterbalanced by how well she handled herself. She had never thought Zazzalil would become a necessity in her daily life. She had never thought she would crave her presence rather than put up with it. And if she had been so intent on keeping all sentiments of fondness far away from their relation, then how shameful to now be so overtaken with them that she could barely refrain from calling and texting Zazz a hundred times over the day just to know nothing had changed. For if nothing had changed, she would not have been plagued by these doubts and thoughts, and she knew that perfectly well now. She hated how well she knew herself.

Zazzalil was not at the Great Big Thorn the next day. Jemilla ordered her drink, a new special Grunt had created for some national day Jemilla didn’t keep track of. The Bubblegum Unicorn Pink Delicious was just about as sugary as one might have guessed and she felt numb and lazy with the sweetness clinging to her palate. Fifteen articles to edit, a weekly schedule to revise and she would be done for the day, but the hours progressed and the work was botched, so much so that she knew she would have to review it at home that evening to correct what her present self was half-assing. The other half of the table was left untouched and empty. She wondered if people could sense her needing the space and left the seat vacant for her sake. She didn’t cross one inch over her own half all day. It wasn’t hers to occupy.

Zazzalil was not there the next day either, nor the third. On the fourth, she updated her YouTube channel with an unrelated vlog, some parkour, some very messy cooking, nothing about her personal life. Zazzalil never let the world in on her personal life and Jemilla was no grander acquaintance than any of her subscribers. She watched the video five times in a row before stopping herself and closing the tab for good. She had thought she might be relieved by seeing that Zazzalil lived, that she was doing her normal Zazzalil shit, but the sight of that pretty face, the eyes glinting with cleverness and sass, her smile at the camera, a wink after a particularly impressive parkour feat, and Jemilla felt worse than ever. A couple of days later, Zazzalil had posted a video showing off her tech setup for work at home and Jemilla thought she should never open the channel again.

"Hey, sorry we haven’t caught up in ages, so sorry!"

Jemilla was startled from much too gloomy thoughts and put on her same easy polite smile. These days, it wasn’t all that easy but when she looked up to find Emberly grabbing a seat in front of her, she felt much more sincere than merely courteous. Emberly untied the apron from her waist to bundle it on the table and grinned.

"Hey," Jemilla said quietly. "Not too busy?"

Emberly gestured vaguely at Tiblyn holding the post at the counter. It was a slow day and the sun was shining bright outside, which made everyone more inclined to sit out in the park than inside the coffee shop, no matter how cool and hipster. In fact, there were only a small handful of people in here, but Jemilla did not want to give up her seat and leave like most people had. What would she even do if she came another day to find it taken by someone else, if Zazzalil came back to a new neighbor to share the table with? But there was no sign of Zazzalil coming back any time soon and she knew her reasonings were in vain.

"No, yeah, this place has been booming, right?" Emberly sighed contentedly. "I was so scared we’d sink in the red but it’s doing great." She touched Jemilla’s hand across the table. "Too great! I’ve seen you every day and yet we haven’t talked in ages."

Jemilla stroked a thumb across Emberly’s palm gently.

"How’ve you been doing?" Emberly asked.

Jemilla was so used to socializing she had never before stopped to realize how easy she usually had it until every interaction became painful like they had been this week. A staff meeting the other day, several phone calls with her mother, a night with friends, and now a quick catch up with Emberly, and every single moment had been haunted with a soft curly face with a mouth full of terrible ideas and terrible jokes. She tried to remember if she had felt like this for her other partners before, not the boyfriends and girlfriends but the ones she had taken to bed like she had Zazz. All memories were so faint now, nothing like the bright and overwhelming recent moments spent with Zazzalil and now perhaps gone forever.

"The website’s doing great," she smiled. "We’re thinking of doing another podcast starting next month, our audience is very faithful. So that’s been really cool and…"

Her heart was not in the conversation but, Jemilla thought, her heart was a traitor as of late and was not in any way needed for the daily mundane shit of her life. She told Emberly all about the recent updates in her personal life, only strictly stopping short of mentioning anything pertaining to the private arrangement with Zazzalil, which nobody needed to know about. In return, she got news of Emberly and her boyfriend and girlfriend, how they were thinking of getting married but weren’t yet sure which pair to solidify legally, how Tiblyn’s college debt was paid off as of last month, how they had a new kitten at home. It might have been a perfectly normal and pleasant chat between friends, if Emberly had kept it there.

"Alright, I think I’m gonna go back and help Tibs," she said after a while, pulling back the chair. "All my love to Zazz, and you take care, Jemilla."

Jemilla’s blood turned fiery hot at the mere thought of Zazzalil, which she had tried to push down the entire time. She frowned.

"Why would I say anything to Zazzalil?" Her voice on the other hand came out as cold as ice, a rarity which did not go unnoticed by Emberly, who looked at her just as confused.

"Weren’t you guys dating… ?"

"Fuck no. Not that I know of."

"Oh." Emberly’s face was grimacing in embarrassment and she played with her fingers, slowly looking for her words. "Oh, shit, I didn’t mean… erm…"

She sighed. Jemilla hated the way her stomach was churning uncomfortably. Salt on a fresh wound.

"It’s just that Zazzalil mentioned you so much, you’re always in here together, and how she hasn’t been seeing anybody and even broke up with Keeri, I just assumed… Shit."

Jemilla bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself level headed. She had not even known that Emberly was aware that her and Zazzalil knew each other, much less that she had had any suspicions of this kind. A horrible part of her was satisfied beyond measure that there was some chemistry not just imagined by her own mind but tangible, observed by others. The larger part of her knew this was irrelevant. You couldn’t have chemistry with an absentee and Zazzalil’s actions spoke loud enough. Jemilla had treated her to a perfectly romantic night, her affection on a platter, and Zazzalil had snuck out like a thief in the night rather than grant Jemilla the decency of closure, even just to burst her bubble and refuse her openly.

"I’m sorry I assumed there was anything," Emberly said. "Crap, this is why we should have kept more in touch, I’m so sorry…"

"Well, I didn’t say there was _nothing_ ," Jemilla blurted out before she could stop herself. "I said we weren’t dating."

She could see Emberly’s thought process right before her eyes, almost adorable if she hadn’t been so on the edge with nerve in this instant. After a while, Emberly suddenly broke into understanding and threw her hands in the air.

"Oh, what or _who_ you do is none of my business!" She cried out. She stood, ready to get back to work, but she gave Jemilla an insistent look that saw right through her. "Though you’d be dynamite together, honestly… Shit, I really thought you guys… Well, _none of my business_. See you, J-Mills!"

"Bye, Emberly."

Jemilla was almost happy as she waved Emberly away, but grew rather somber again as soon as her back was turned on her. Dynamite was right, but it had exploded right in her face before they had given themselves a chance.

Jemilla remembered that first night together at Zazzalil’s. They had laid out rules at her request, the usual deal with casual sexual partners. No strings attached, not telling anyone, no feelings. Out of the two of them, she had expected Zazzalil to be the rule breaker, yet in this instant she thought of how badly she had held up all of these rules that had come from herself. Emberly had sort of known already, she thought, even to the point of assuming altogether, but Jemilla had still said more than agreed upon. She still felt more than the strict naught initially established and if she dared to listen to her heart, strings were more than attached. They were anchored quite firmly, no matter how much Jemilla wished any different.

Perhaps she should have expected this. She had known the strength of her feelings for Zazzalil from the start, only at the time she had mistaken them for annoyance and disdain. She had thought she hated her and that this spite was precisely what made the sex so good, a clash within herself sparking lightning bolts, an electric touch whenever Zazz and she came together. Having opened the door to doting on Zazzalil, to letting herself grow compassion and understanding, it had been all too easy for the bulk of this intense irk to turn to a passion of another kind. Every annoyance had now turned to delight and she was longing for the dumb pranks again, for a bickering coexistence on the battlefield of this shared table. For the sweet, sweet reconciliation at home.

Zazzalil came back the next day

"H-Hey Zazz…"

The vision that morning was almost divine of some sort, if Jemilla believed in God at all. Of course, there was nothing abnormal about the actual sight. Zazzalil entered the shop an hour after opening, backpack loosely balanced on a shoulder, and grabbed a jar of black coffee like she had dozens of times before. Her hair was tidy for once, tucked in a bun at the nape of her neck, and she was wearing one of her many hoodies and black denims with holes at the knees. She looked really nice, though Jemilla told herself she might have thought the same in one of Zazzalil’s grungier moods as well. She gave her a broad smile that was never reciprocated as Zazzalil wordlessly set up her tech on her half of the table, the half she had not occupied in a week now. She was more meticulous than she had ever been, determined to focus on her screen, her work and not on her neighbor.

"This is from Emberly," she said eventually, sliding towards Jemilla one of two cookies she held in a paper napkin, taking the other for herself.

This was their only exchange of the day. Briefly, Jemilla asked herself why Zazzalil had even come back if she was to be poor company before telling herself off for being so self-centered as to imagine that Zazzalil could not simply have come here to work in a quiet and pleasant environment, no matter who was at her side. All day, Zazzalil did exactly that and never acknowledged that she was not the only person sitting at this table, or at least nobody else that she knew. When closing time came around, Jemilla cleared her throat and put on a brave face − since when was she so meek as to fear human interaction?

"You wanna come back to my place?" She asked very smoothly, so casually, almost as casual as Zazz always was.

Zazzalil didn’t look at her. She was putting away her things with more order than ever instead of the usual shoving everything together, to hell with organization. She zipped it closed and pulled it over her shoulders.

"No thanks," she said. "Busy night."

That night, Jemilla learned at the same time as all of Zazzalil’s Instagram followers that she was having a chill out night at home with her dear friend Mary Jane and a few old horror movies.

She tried again some days later, which all had gone down pretty much the same as that day Zazzalil had come back. Radio silence. She missed the fights, how ardently they had used to bicker. She missed the push and pull, Zazzalil always giving back all the bite Jemilla threw at her. She missed feeling like they were having a conversation, even if that conversation was a clashing argument. The roles seemed almost reversed, Zazzalil so applied to her work while Jemilla was constantly distracted and unfocused. Still, if she didn’t give it a try, if she didn’t push her efforts towards at least one more invitation…

Zazzalil finally perked up from her mood at Jemilla sliding her a paper napkin. Another covertly worded invite to a rendezvous that night, two checkboxes, but Zazzalil didn’t play along and only gave it back with a shrug.

"Sure," she said. "I’ll come."

No snicker at the choice of words, nor at the way Jemilla logged it in her calendar. Still, this was a yes, albeit unenthusiastic, and Jemilla was hoping that whatever spark that had been there before could be rekindled so. They had always matched, hadn’t they? From the first trashy time in that bathroom to the last time, so tender and sensual, their bodies had done the work for them of getting along.

Zazzalil arrived late, thirty minutes after the time agreed, thirty minutes which Jemilla spent paralyzed on her couch telling herself she wasn’t nervous. She knocked once and Jemilla gave herself a few seconds to pretend she hadn’t rushed to the door to flunk it wide open at the first sound behind it. She breathed and grinned as she opened the door.

"Hey, babe," she said, finding the most charming part of herself for a facade.

Zazzalil looked at her and Jemilla thought all her resolve must have fallen, by the way she snorted and made her way inside without a word. She kicked off her boots, which landed in between Jemilla’s potted plants, and took off her sweater under which she was wearing only a thin tank top. Jemilla felt every instinct in herself scream in wildly opposite directions, the urge to placate and reconcile through conversation only matched by the desire she felt for the woman in her home, perhaps even love. Zazzalil pushed her back onto the couch and straddled her, kissing her so very bluntly Jemilla wondered if she was angry. She had closed her eyes, which were normally so warm and vivid Jemilla missed their gaze very acutely.

"Zazz, I wanted to…"

Zazzalil’s lips were suckling the skin of her neck so hungrily she would undoubtedly leave a mark. Jemilla sighed out, not unhappy with that idea, leaving Zazzalil’s trace on herself. It was better than avoidance. It was better than a week of disappearance. Her hands palmed Zazzalil’s butt and kept her close and she noted just how much she had missed the feel of Zazzalil in her arms now that she was there again.

"I wanted to talk a little," she managed to let out and Zazzalil groaned with discontent.

It was a battle of will all at once, Jemilla just as ardently desirous to pry out confessions from her as Zazzalil was to ignore her requests and to take pleasure at her hands and nothing else. She tried to unbutton Jemilla’s blouse but Jemilla caught her hands there between their chests and put a hand at her cheek to look into her eyes.

"Where were you?" She asked and winced, for even she could hear the desperation in her own voice. "What have you been doing? I was…"

Zazzalil paused there. She tugged her hands free from Jemilla’s, who let them slip away.

"Well, teach’," Zazzalil said. As she spoke, she began undoing the buttons again with a haste Jemilla would have adored in other circumstances. "I’ve been a good girl, I’ve done my work, I didn’t get into any fights…"

She kissed the skin under Jemilla’s neck, who felt the nibble of her teeth there too and her own breath hitching despite herself. Zazzalil sensed this and huffed out an amused chuckle against her skin, trailed kisses down her collarbones, on her breasts over the bra. Jemilla had put on her best lace, yet now that she was here with Zazzalil, she craved her conversation so much more than her kisses.

"So do I get my gold star?"

"Zazz," Jemilla said more firmly. "Are you gonna tell me why you disappeared for a week? You barely spoke to me the past few days…"

She had expected some reluctance, perhaps a bit of protest, but not the outburst of anger that came out.

"I came here to have sex, Jemilla, what’s your fucking deal?!"

She climbed off of Jemilla in clumsy haste, searching the room for her sweater and her boots and sat on the ground to put them back on rather than sitting next to Jemilla on the couch. She wasn’t saying anything, but Jemilla knew in this instant that if she let her leave this door, she would be gone for good. She gulped. So full of humor and wit on any normal day, she was finding nothing clever to make her stay. She realized in this instant that there was no such thing. She had no zinger to humor her into being interested in her − Zazzalil had had a taste of it, what being together might feel like, and she had run from it. Jemilla could pursue all she wanted (and how she wanted, how dearly she did) but the gap between them was unbridgeable. And still she wanted to try.

"I just thought… we don’t have to fuck every time, we can just talk or…"

Zazzalil’s face snapped up and she glared.

"We _don’t_? Since when? That’s the whole fucking point, dude. Casual sex with an asshole I can’t stand. We had a deal."

The pain twisted Jemilla’s guts, panged in her chest like a siren. Zazzalil seemed furious and her fingers were so numb with the anger she was struggling with the shoelaces.

"But, but deals can be changed, we could add to it…"

" _I don’t want to_."

She had hissed as upset as a cat thrown in a lake to fend for its own life. Zazzalil put on her hoodie so hastily she didn’t seem to care it was inside out. At another time, Jemilla would have found that annoying as fuck, but recently had grown to think of it as cute. It was neither now. It was just another foreboding that Zazzalil was leaving and fuck if it mattered how poorly dressed she was as she did so.

"I thought we could just have fun, but I don’t need _you_ for sex."

A sudden burst of jealousy peaked in Jemilla’s chest and she cried out.

"I thought you weren’t seeing anyone else! Emberly said you didn’t."

"You told Emberly?!"

Jemilla bit her lip. A bad move, but she couldn’t well go back into the past to fix it. She sighed.

"She guessed. She thought we were together!"

"We’re not," Zazzalil said in a cold tone that was full of certitude. As if Jemilla had any doubt now. "Jeez, J-Mills, you were the one with all the rules! Remind me again, how did you want to do this?"

The memory was painful and Jemilla hugged herself but Zazzalil pointed a finger in accusation.

"What were your rules?!"

Jemilla’s mouth opened and closed again. She breathed out a shaky breath, biting back a sob.

" _No strings attached, we don’t tell anyone about this and we don’t catch feelings._ "

She had said the words very softly but Zazzalil repeated them much more bold, her voice thick with annoyance.

"I… I _can’t_ do more than that," she said. "That was the plan, I agreed, we had a good time, but you had to go and fuck it all up and…"

She made to leave and in a final gesture of despair, Jemilla leapt to bar her way to the door.

"But I _want_ to attach strings," she said, heart racing dangerously in her chest. Her whole body was pulsing hard with it, uncomfortably fast. "I want to tell others, I… I _do_ have feelings…"

Zazzalil’s eyes widened in shock and hurt and Jemilla tried a step closer, tried to smile, tried to be as comforting as she wished to be.

"And don’t you too?" She asked in a very low voice.

She touched Zazzalil’s hand and the terror grew more frantic. There was a deep sadness in her eyes that broke Jemilla’s heart, but it could be mended again. Just one word back and it might be strong and whole. Zazzalil stared and stared and never replied. She stepped around Jemilla to leave and the door shut quietly behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment!!!


	4. When you’re by my side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemilla thinks her bubble has burst for good and there’s no way she’ll ever see Zazzalil again… but like, this is a fluffy af fic, it’s a comedic tone, what do you expect really. Come and get your happy ending. You deserve it just as much as the gorls.

Jemilla stared at the closed door as if by sheer will she could go back in time to whenever things had changed, back before her fond heart on a platter had frightened off Zazzalil with her tender feelings. She stood helplessly but no miracle came about, no door pushed open with a repentant Zazzalil here again to make amends. She checked the time − it wasn’t all that late yet. The prospect of a night of pleasure had turned to nothing but despair and solitude, unless she changed a thing about that.

Jemilla had always been sociable beyond her peers, but also genuine in her interest in others and not just playing friendly. She had had many partners, that was for sure, but not just. A huge flock of friends from every job she had had, every party she had been to, easily keeping contact with the ones worth her time and affection. She made friends quickly enough and for good once they were acquainted. If she wanted to be alone, she could be, but the choice was easily remedied if not.

"Oh, hey J-Mills," Tiblyn smiled when she came to ring at their door that night. "I’d say long time, no see, but…"

Jemilla tried to put on her bravest face. It took all of one glance the moment she walked into their apartment for Emberly to see right through it.

"Oh, shit, you look like crap," She blurted out. "Is it still about the Zazzalil thing? Look, I’m so sorry I said anything, we were just talking about it, actually."

So much for any attempt at a social mask. Jemilla was used to having things under control, having things her way, but tonight was going all amiss and she was longing for simpler times when she would throw Zazz out her door with a promise of another good fuck a couple of days later.

"Yeah…"

Emberly touched her arm to try and reassure, but she must have known the attempt was unfruitful and she invited her to their hangout room where the three of them had each scattered their favorite couches and poufs. Grunt put on quiet music to soothe the mood, Tiblyn gave her the best seat, some thrifted leather armchair that was as deep as it was comfortable, and Emberly worked on her home blend of herbal tea which Jemilla had always been fond of. Finally, all smothered in their attention and three faces on her, she supposed she had to talk a little and where better to begin than from the top?

"So, I met Zazzalil at the Great Big Thorn the day you opened the shop…" She started, staring down at the greenish brown liquid she swirled around the mug between her hands.

Tiblyn cried out victoriously and pointed an accusing finger at Grunt, who was startled by the outburst and sank back into the pillows behind him.

"I told you they hadn’t met before! It happened in _our_ shop. God, that’s so romantic…"

The poor boy was raising his hands in a gesture of peace.

"Okay, so you were right, fine, I just assumed…"

Jemilla could feel three pairs of eager eyes on her but she did not dare to look up just yet. She wondered if this was yet another betrayal against Zazzalil but, she thought, as their deal had been broken altogether, she was under no obligation to keep the rules anymore. Emberly and Tiblyn had been her friends for years, long before they had added that artist of a boyfriend to the mix, and she trusted them with anything at all life was throwing at her. They had met back in freshman year in college at some meeting for bisexuals organized by Jemilla and a few of her friends back then. Jemilla had always thought she’d had a helping hand in bringing these two ones together, as Tiblyn and Emberly had spent that entire first night chatting together upon being introduced to one another. A payback of some sort, she supposed, years later now with her and Zazz.

"Did you like, fall in love at first sight?" Tiblyn asked, all starry eyed. "Was it super sweet?"

Jemilla might have laughed if she wasn’t on the verge of tears, but Emberly was the one who chuckled.

"Come on, baby, that’s Jemilla we’re talking about here."

There was no judgment in her voice, nor any lie. Jemilla knew that her romantic past hadn’t always been just littered with roses and chocolates. And while she knew nothing of Zazzalil’s, she could still have a guess there as well.

"It was _not_ very sweet, we, erm, we clashed from the start. We’re…" She sighed deeply. "Very different people."

"You can say that again," Grunt said. "She’s…"

But he stopped himself politely and gestured for Jemilla to go on. Tiblyn was leaning forward, entranced, her head between her hands. Even Emberly was so taken by the idea of two of her friends together she was making herself all cozy into Grunt’s side to better listen.

"Well anyways, even though we were fighting all the time, after a few weeks we started getting physical…"

"You mean like beat each other up?" Grunt frowned.

He looked at Tiblyn, who looked just as confused, but Emberly shook her head.

"I think she means they had sex."

"Oh…"

For a second Jemilla was caught up in the memory of Zazzalil’s arms around her, the hot skin under her lips, how eager and receptive every time. How intent on another round she had been tonight, but nothing more, not what Jemilla wanted. She sipped some more tea.

"So you… slept together even though you didn’t like each other?" Tiblyn asked dubiously.

"Well, that’s Jemilla for you," Emberly said, though she was smiling and Jemilla knew she was only teasing, but suddenly she frowned. "But what’s the matter then?"

This wasn’t Jemilla’s first roll around. She had always thought herself quite liberated, loving and making love to whoever she wanted and letting loose of the people who got too attached to her if she thought she would break their heart more by staying. She had not necessarily thought of herself as someone who would ever have a significant other she wanted to be with forever, as all her previous relationships had inevitably ran their course when the other person had asked for more commitment than Jemilla was willing or capable to provide − though committed she had always been, to some extent. She had never expected to be on the other side of such balance.

"I caught feelings," she said simply. "She didn’t."

Tiblyn and Emberly looked at each other knowingly but looked away. Jemilla sighed and chugged down the rest of her herbal tea. She was not particularly more soothed than before coming here, only perhaps quieter.

"I wouldn’t be too sure about that…" Tiblyn said with some hesitation.

Jemilla whimpered painfully and slouched back in the armchair. She was being much less dignified than she liked to be at all times, but there were some occasions which simply had to be forgiven.

"Oh, I’m sure. She, erm, she just let me know. Very surely. We were at my place tonight, about to…" She breathed in deeply. "And then I tried to talk about my feelings instead and she just walked out on me…"

Emberly let out a snort.

"Well, that’s Zazz for you too," she said, shaking her head fondly.

Tiblyn smiled with compassion and took Jemilla’s hand in hers.

"She’s not a feelings kinda person, I suppose… Oh, I’m so sorry, Jemilla. That really sucks. Zazzy can be, erm, rough around the edges."

"She hates me," Grunt said with a shrug and looked no sadder by the admission. "I’ve never known why but she’s just like that, she feels what she feels but she won’t say anything about it. You’ll know what you need to know and not one thing more."

Jemilla grew very somber. As if she didn’t _need_ to know where Zazzalil stood for sure, as if she wasn’t desperately craving for her to open up her heart to her…

"I think she’ll come around," he added, full of hope. He looked like he meant it, but Jemilla was a lot more than dubious. "You guys are totally great together, all three of us thought you had a thing already, there’s no way she won’t be back."

"Yup," Emberly nodded. "No way in hell, Jemilla, just you wait."

Though she was very unconvinced, Jemilla shrugged and let them believe as they did. She could not get Zazzalil out of her head either way. To know that her friends had also seen potential there, that it was not just in her own mind, was more thrilling than she could avow.

"How do you even know her anyways?" She asked after brooding her thoughts for a moment. "I didn’t even know you guys were friends before the other day."

"Oh, she’s an old pal," Emberly said with a shrug. "We met at Hebrew school when we were kids. She’s always been… something. I’d tell you not to worry about it but I think you’re worried about it."

"Of fucking course I’m worried about it!" Jemilla cried out. "She… she left. She’s gone."

Suddenly she found herself trapped in an embrace from all three of her friends. It felt good to be doted on a little bit and even though they were much more secure about her prospect with Zazzalil than she was, in their arms she let herself believe a little.

"Well, you know Zazz by now," Tiblyn said. "She can’t make up her mind on anything half of the time, but when she’s found her way, she’s stubborn as fuck. When she comes back it’ll be for good."

Jemilla nodded sadly, but even after several mugs of herbal tea, the last few of which were mixed in with something a lot stronger, she hardly believed a word of it. She spent the next day a little hungover wallowing at home, as the Great Big Thorn was closed. She ate all the ice cream left in her freezer and groaned in her pillows many a times, more than she would have liked. The bed was so empty, so cold and boring without company in it. She wondered if this now marked the end of her long string of dalliances, if she would ever find it in herself to fuck another person. Nobody had ever matched quite as well as Zazz, no one was as much of a challenge and a tease. Even out of bed, she alone was the contrast Jemilla had needed, yet also the only light that had ever shone on her to make much clearer her good qualities and her flaws. Only with Zazzalil had she revealed herself whole, she thought. And Zazzalil had seen that and closed the door in her face.

"Hey," she told Tiblyn sadly the next morning. "Two peanut cookies and a mint frappuccino, please. Oat milk."

"Sure thing," Tiblyn said, gently brushing against Jemilla’s hand across the counter in a gesture of kindness.

Jemilla sighed to herself as the drink was being prepared. She dropped her tip into the jar and Tiblyn hummed contentedly in acknowledgement. When she turned around, she was beaming from ear to ear.

"Here you go, J-Mills," she said and the smile got even broader, even witty. "Enjoy."

This was more mysterious than it needed to be but Jemilla was in no mood to care about surprises. Or so she thought for the few seconds it took to the back end of the shop at the usual table.

"H-Hey Jemilla."

Zazzalil was sitting at their table. Not at her usual seat nor on Jemilla’s but her butt on the surface of the table otherwise empty in a crowded shop. None of her tech setup was laid out today and, Jemilla noted, she didn’t even have her backpack with her at all. It was all Zazz and nothing but her, the same style of hoodie and shorts as ever, army boots dangling in the air nervously as she looked at Jemilla right in the eyes. Jemilla wasn’t certain she wanted to sit at that table anymore but before she could make any decision, Zazzalil was all in motion, scrambling up to her feet and standing on the table firmly on her legs. She cleared her throat.

"YOUR ATTENTION, EVERYONE!" She cried out. "PLEASE, YOUR ATTENTION. Especially you, Jemilla."

Only a few people turned her way, most patrons too busy at their screens with headphones firmly on to notice the woman standing there ready to make whatever declarations were on her mind. Jemilla bit her lip.

"I would like to start this by saying I’m a fucking sham."

"Woo!" Tiblyn cheered and clapped, followed by no one.

Emberly and Grunt murmured something to one another and he said something that made her giggle and slap his arm playfully, but Jemilla only saw them from the corner of her eye. What she was actually staring at was presently awkwardly on her feet on top of the table and thinking up the rest of what she intended to say. Jemilla wondered if this impromptu speech had been planned at all or born out of the whim of the instant.

"I’ve been very dishonest about my, erm, my true feelings. I misrepresented them and misjudged them and I apologize."

Jemilla was entranced. Already being in Zazzalil’s presence again was intoxicating, no matter how heartbroken, but the hint of a proper apology was more spectacular than she had ever thought to hope the past couple of days. That warm spark in her eyes, though, the pretty face, her bratty demeanor that never ceased to amaze and annoy her. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, waiting for Zazzalil to go on.

"The truth of it…"

She trailed off and looked at some point past Jemilla − Tiblyn, Emberly and Grunt, Jemilla noted as she turned around to check, were giving her the big thumbs up. Zazzalil seemed reassured by this and went on.

"The truth is that I have… erm, I have feelings for Jemilla. This woman right here." She looked at her feet, shuffled awkwardly from one to the other before looking up and right into Jemilla’s eyes across from her. "Of a romantic nature. I like her, and I mean _like_ -like her, you know?"

"You’re thirty-two years old, for fuck’s sake," Emberly muttered under her breath.

There were some snickers around them and Jemilla thought that the audience outside of the five of them was very uninterested, but how she made up for it, how captivated she was herself. She suddenly felt very warm from head to toes and wondered if she was blushing. When was the last time she had ever blushed at anything?

"Now I know it started off all rocky and wonky, and I know I did some stupid shit and maybe it wasn’t all schmaltzy like you deserve that our first time happened in that bathroom over there," Zazzalil said, gesturing. She had found her pace now and was rambling more comfortably, more casually. "But… but I think that fits us because my life has been a fucking mess, especially before I knew you but you gave me… meaning, and some rules, even though we both broke them, and you gave me shape. I was just like… a random blob. Before you. And now I’m more like a person. A person who fucked up bad."

Jemilla thought about the rules. She thought about Zazzalil admitting to breaking them. She tried not to smile but smiled anyways.

"Yeah, you fucking did."

Rather than discouraged, Zazzalil was emboldened by this and more sure of herself.

"What happened was, I was getting more comfortable with you," she said. She was no longer really speaking to an audience, only to Jemilla, but who else mattered in the world at all anymore but one another? "So comfortable I broke up with Keeri cause she kept asking me to get exclusive and I just… I couldn’t see myself in a future where I’m not around _you_. Where we didn’t have what we had."

She closed her eyes and breathed deep.

"But then you moved faster than I expected and I thought I wasn’t ready, which was fucking dumb because I’m never ready for anything, ever."

Jemilla snorted. If anything, Zazzalil was always ready for everything, always on the lookout to bounce onto whatever came her way. How thought out and reasonable the reaction was, though, was highly debatable in every situation.

"But I know now… I was super wrong. I _am_ ready. I _want to_ commit and not just to fuck, although definitely that too like, woah I’ve never had anyone do me so good but that’s neither here nor there." She caught herself and shook her head to get her thoughts back in line. "I want to attach _all_ the strings and to tell everyone because I have feelings for you, Jemilla. Very strong feelings." She smiled shyly. "So I’m so sorry I was a dumb dick and will you please forgive me?"

Zazzalil looked at her with big sad eyes like a puppy dog. She seemed to suddenly register they were still in front of a crowd, no matter how disinterested, and addressed the rest of them directly too.

"So anyways, this romantic and in fact very sincere declaration was brought to you by _Do it with Zazz_ , look me up on the YouTube, rate comment and subscribe, uploads every other day, thank you."

She gave a theatrical bow in all directions and hopped off the table − to her credit, the leap was very smooth, parkour expert or something. Stepping towards Jemilla, she knelt there like she was a knight waiting to be dubbed by her queen.

"So what do _you_ say?"

Jemilla was speechless. There were so many things to say, but every good idea was surpassed by another and she could not find where to start. Not one other person in the shop made a sound till Emberly blurted out very loud and very angry.

" _… You fucked in our bathroom?!_ "

Both their heads snapped towards her, who was standing there with a hand at her hip and the other pointing to them accusingly. Zazzalil’s mouth fell open and a faint whimper came out.

"Uh…"

"OUT! Both of you out and never come back! For fuck’s sake, in the bathroom! You guys deserve each other!"

They made an exceptionally sheepish parade to the sidewalk, first Jemilla then Zazzalil on her trail. Jemilla was, she supposed, a little grateful that Emberly had robbed her of the dilemma of how to reply to such declaration. Zazzalil had a whole other take on it.

"Okay, fuck, Emberly totally ruined the vibe I was going for," she groaned once they were outside. She was looking at Jemilla so forlornly Jemilla wanted to grab her cheeks and cover her with kisses. Perhaps that wasn’t in the realm of impossibilities at all. "But you get what I meant, though, don’t you?"

Jemilla took a step towards her. Slowly, she wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her snug against her. Her hand cupping her face very firmly, she kissed her. Zazzalil might as well have swooned for how relieved she was as she sank into the kiss. Jemilla could feel her own heart beating, strongly pulsing through her entire body and she felt so very alive, drunk of being here with Zazz in her arms, Zazz who had made a fool of herself just for a chance to apologize properly.

"So you have feelings," she said with a slight smirk right again Zazzalil’s lips, their foreheads together which bumped painfully into each other when Zazzalil nodded. "Ow…"

Zazzalil’s hands reached up to hold her face and check if she had been hurt and Jemilla couldn’t stop smiling.

"So many feelings," Zazzalil swore. "And for quite a while."

Jemilla kissed her again, a shorter kiss for her own reassurance. They looked at each other and the smile they exchanged was so sweet Jemilla could taste it sugary at her lips.

"Zazzy," she said softly.

"Mmh?"

Zazzalil’s hands now clung to Jemilla’s collar as she pressed herself closer in the embrace, so eager she was to be held.

"Call an Uber, I’m getting your ass back to my place." A hand slid down to grab Zazzalil’s butt through the thick cargo shorts. "And we’ll see how many feelings are left at the end of the day."

"All of them," Zazzalil promised, though she was already reaching for her phone, her fingers numb with excitement. "They’re not going anywhere, ever."

They made out the entire Uber ride and Jemilla insisted Zazzalil left a heavy tip for compensation. The door was barely slammed behind them, though, that she had forgotten anything that wasn’t Zazz in her arms, Zazz gently but very eagerly guiding her to the bed, Zazz lying her down under her like she’d been born to take the lead after all.

"How is it that you do it, all love making and crap?" She asked against Jemilla’s neck, butterfly kisses on hot skin begging to be touched.

"The secret is to feel every touch," she replied, helping Zazzalil by lifting her arms when asked to pull off her blouse. "And to have so much confidence you’re sweating it out from every pore of your body."

She felt Zazzalil’s smile at her breasts and how she covered them with kisses over the bra − not her best looking one, but Zazzalil was more interested in unhooking it than admiring it anyways and it joined the blouse on the ground.

"That’s kinda gross, I like it," she said. Her lips caught a nipple between them, toying her tongue around it, and Jemilla smiled down at her and combed fingers through her hair. "You’re so beautiful, J-Mills."

"Yeah?"

Zazzalil sat up very suddenly to take off her sweater, though Jemilla didn’t miss the effort in dropping it next to her own clothes in a small pile and not just throwing it whichever way across the room. She took off her sports bra in a hurry too and Jemilla pursed her lips together at such sight, the breasts bouncing with the motion till Zazzalil was on top of her again and the effort was centered back on her.

"Yeah, the first day I saw you I thought, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen," she said and doted on Jemilla’s breasts till her breath was heavy with it. "Then you talked and I thought other things, but you were still always so pretty and… and perfect…"

She could take her time when she wanted, Jemilla reflected, and she could be as giving and generous as any good lover. Likely even better for how much Jemilla knew she was pacing herself for her sake. Zazzalil liked things fast and hurried and as many rounds as she could if the first was too short. Jemilla liked to savor the moment and make it linger on and on.

"I really am so sorry, you know," she sighed between Jemilla’s breasts and the outburst might have been comical if Jemilla wasn’t taken with such compassion.

"I know," she said softly.

"It’s just, she wanted me to get exclusive and I was like, fuck no, and then you asked sort of the same and I fucking panicked, I wanted that so bad with you but at the same time I… I was so scared and lost, I thought if I didn’t talk to you then I’d stop feeling that way. But I was so, so wrong."

She kissed down Jemilla’s stomach open-mouthed and insistent and unclasped the belt much more confidently than her voice was letting expect. She tugged down the jeans and underwear with Jemilla’s help and if Jemilla had much worse judgment, she would have taken a picture right there of that very sorry face between her legs, for it was the sweetest thing she had ever seen in her life.

"I thought you weren’t into me after all," she said. "That I’d just made it up in my mind."

"I was _so_ into you, babe!" Zazzalil cried out. "I am so into you."

Leisurely, she kissed the inside of Jemilla’s thighs, up one side and down the other, and up again and if Jemilla had been without a clue, she would have wondered which of them was the patient one and which was the impatient. She wanted to push Zazzy’s face into her, to press up her hips to have her plenty and good and to keep her there for the foreseeable future. She wanted her everywhere at once, so ardently her skin was burning with it. She wanted to forget having ever not had her, even for a few days.

"I like you so much," Zazzalil added. Her fingers reached out to touch Jemilla and they both sighed out amorously in satisfaction. "And everything I thought was stuck up and annoying about you is actually cute and good."

She was today so intent on giving that Jemilla could only do the right thing and receive. She already thought of the payback later, though.

"And you push me in all the right ways and I still don’t just mean when you fuck me good."

Two fingers pressed inside and Jemilla loved feeling how easily they pushed in and out. Zazzalil was right, of course. It wasn’t just the sex, but it wasn’t not it. Their bodies had known the gist of it before their minds and hearts had caught up.

"You fuck me good too, babe," she said. Zazzalil’s mouth was at her clit, the touch of her tongue so soft and unhurried. In this moment, Jemilla wanted it no other way at all. "So good…"

Their eyes never left each other as Zazzalil tried with every caress she gave to fully breach the gap she had dug between them. It was forgotten already, forgiven from the moment they had kissed again. Still, it never hurt to be treated regally and Jemilla came against her mouth after a long eternity of pleasure and attention. Zazzalil was smiling so bright, so proud Jemilla could do nothing but to pull her back to her to kiss herself at her lips. She didn’t mind. She liked that a little bit, perhaps. Straddling her, Zazzalil was all mellow and when Jemilla pushed them around to have Zazzalil underneath her where she loved her best, she was the loveliest thing Jemilla had seen in her days. Her cheeks were so warm with their tryst and perhaps with the emotions that came with it.

"I like you so fucking much," Jemilla muttered against the soft skin of her thighs where the fuzzy hair caressed her cheeks as she hooked Zazzy’s knees over her shoulders comfortably − Zazzy’s feet clamped at her back and the impatience was slowly getting the best of her. "And I love having you in my bed, you don’t even know."

She buried her face between her legs, breathing deep. Perhaps because of the euphoria of the moment, but she realized once more how much she had been so starved off this, of pleasing Zazzy whichever way at all she wanted of her. With one hand, she kept her waist close, ever closer, with the other she touched her breasts which Zazzalil so loved to have her touch. The heartbeat she felt at her fingertips was racing fast.

"I love it, I just do," she said again, pressing kisses between Zazzalil’s legs to build the anticipation a little, though they both knew Zazzalil’s turn would be much more rushed than hers had been. "And I love…"

"Erm…"

She looked at Zazzalil again but frowned when she found her looking less than the ecstatic she had expected.

"You okay, Zazz?"

Zazzalil nodded, but hurried to explain herself.

"I-I… I don’t know if I’m ready to drop the L bomb yet," she said timidly and grimaced like she expected Jemilla to run off on her for it, even in her very house. "You know, the big one. And I’m so scared you could say it and I can’t say it back and I’ll hurt you again."

Jemilla smiled. Another kiss between her legs, a dip of her tongue inside to get a taste, even to gorge herself on her, and Zazzalil moaned like there had never been tension in her in all her days.

"That’s okay, babe," Jemilla said in a low voice. "I’ll wait for you, but just know that when you’re ready…" Her fingers pressed inside and she loved how loose Zazzalil was already, how very readily she took the caresses Jemilla had to give. "I’ll say it back. I’ll say it back a million times."

There was no need for words, in the end. Love was flowing from Jemilla whether she spoke it out or not and she knew Zazzalil was receiving it exactly just as she intended. And she received it alright. The whole damn morning, she got it in every detail. They stayed in bed most of the day, only getting up for lunch, ordering whichever fatty unhealthy takeouts Zazzalil suggested for delivery. They made love again. They fucked. The line between the two was as blurry as ever and, Jemilla reflected, there was no need for a distinction at all. Love was pouring out of her whenever she touched Zazz, when she was around her even, when they talked. A lot of the day was spent talking as well. It wasn’t so much that they’d had their fill of fucking but rather that they were so acutely starved of not-fucking. They chatted and made out and made love and even bickered and not one moment did they wish they were anywhere but in each other’s arms.

They moved in together later in the year. It took a U-Haul and a few hours of transportation, several days of putting away everything Zazzalil owned semi-neatly into the order Jemilla had polished and perfected in her home over the years she had lived there, a few weeks to truly fall into a routine that felt natural for both. They shared a table there too working from home every day, though Jemilla no longer minded if Zazzalil’s shit overstepped on her half of the table more often than not. Zazzalil no longer cared how organized and thorough and fastidious Jemilla was, perhaps because every day she reaped the benefits of it living in such a pleasant and tidy space, resting assured that no matter what came to be, Jemilla knew where to head next and what to do there. She did her share of it too, a little less untidy now than her nature was craving to be, though Jemilla was also a little more lenient with her and more willing to compromise. Zazzalil had her own space of small controlled mess and Jemilla had her own space of impeccable rigorous order. Together, they had a home that was both all at once.

The air smelled warm and robust with fresh coffee being ground and Zazzalil poked her head from the pile of blankets all bundled around her during the night. She blinked a few times, rubbed her eyes, and smiled at Jemilla, still in the lull of a lazy morning.

"Hey, babe," she said in a voice raspy from sleep. "How long have you been up?"

Jemilla filled up the portafilter and tamped it down, a smooth and well rehearsed gesture by now. The water gushed through in a steady flow, two perfect shots pouring into the cups Emberly had bought them to apologize for the ban from the Great Big Thorn a few months ago − though it had yet to be recalled. Hers and hers.

"Couple of hours," she said. "It’s raining out, I don’t know about your parkour trip this afternoon, babe."

Zazzalil turned to the windows where rain droplets were dripping down the glass surface. She stared mesmerized for a moment but the smell of coffee being brought to her was of much greater interest and she grinned at the large Americano Jemilla carefully put down on the coaster that was always left on the nightstand. You never knew when the urge for breakfast in bed could come and Zazzalil loved being in bed more than anywhere else in the world, whether asleep or so very, very awake. Or, like this morning, somewhere between the two. She gulped down a deep too hot sip of coffee and sighed in contentment.

"I guess you’re stuck with me inside, huh?"

Jemilla was back at the kitchen corner across the room, where she was heating up a pan for raspberry pancakes. Butter sizzled on the hot surface and she could see Zazzalil’s hunger in her eyes without a word about it. She was making herself comfortable in their bed, drinking the cup of coffee too fast but there was no stopping Zazz, not when she truly wanted something. A small pile of pancakes soon heaped on a plate Jemilla then brought to the bed on a rustic wooden tray, breakfast for two topped with butter and syrup somewhere just between Zazzalil’s very indulging serving size and her own much more reasonable portion. Zazzalil immediately cut the pile in rough halves, both because she was eager to start eating and wanted to know what was hers, and because Jemilla ate more slowly and there might be nothing left at all if Zazzalil let herself run loose. A little glutton, but mindful of a girlfriend who was not.

"Whatcha doin’ today?" She asked through too big a mouthful.

Jemilla smiled, though she handed her a napkin rather unsubtly. She checked on her phone her to-do list of the day which she had filled before Zazzalil had woken up.

"Mmh, just the basics. A few articles to revise, some emails to send." She took a proper small bite of pancake. "You."

Zazzalil gulped so thickly she coughed a few times into the napkin, her cheeks flushed pink so prettily. Jemilla smirked. Some things, you just never grew tired of.

"In whichever order you’d like."

The breakfast was finished very hastily on one half of the bed and, perhaps to toy with Zazz a little, very patiently on the other. It did not matter all that much after all, the details of when they came together, if one of them was ready sooner than the other. What mattered was that they arrived at the exact same place in the end. Their love had taken its time to blossom but Jemilla had learned that some things were not to be simplified, for to try and streamline them would erase the very twists of the road that had led them where they were. And if things had gone any differently, who knew if they would be there on a cozy rainy day to now live them together?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Please leave a comment!

**Author's Note:**

> Please don’t forget to leave a comment!!! Please!!!


End file.
